I’ve been searching on the internet for poems about mothers. One just perfect, to ease your rawness of the event. The great one and only event, when we lose our mothers. My search came up thirsty and hungry, an unsatisfied compulsion. I decided to make a cocktail. Nothing fancy just grapefruit juice and vodka, hoping to break through the gristle and sinew that gets in the way of my thinking. When I was ready I came upon a memory of my own mother’s death although I was not with her at the time of departure,( I had left just the day before, after sitting diligently at her bed side for seven days).
Why did I leave? Why did I go?
I know why. She taught me. I had responsibilities. Something she learned very late in life herself, but instilled in me with desperate fervor. So I left her. I flew back to Oklahoma to engage in my responsibilities.
Was it worth it?
No. I had my responsibilities messed up. I miss- interpreted her teachings
Time for another drink
I’ve thought about you and your brothers so much in these last few days, I’ve thought of corn seeds.
I’ve thought about your grief and what you might be feeling; Relief, sadness, can we have a do-over?
I’ve thought about healing and anger and confusion. I’ve thought about feeding you. What could I cook for you that will help bring stillness? And I’ve thought about priorities and markers in time and space, because events are what shape our world like clay, regret and pride are the kiln, it can go either way. What happens now is anyone’s guess. “the arrangements” is a given, but a new story unfolds
A history revealed and a future not at our fingertips.
Your sorrow is my sorrow, your joy and relief I share with you also. Know that my heart is burning brightly for you, a fire that cannot be extinguished.
To our mothers, who live in us always