Couldn’t stop thinking about my mother yesterday. It was her birthday and she would’ve been 88.
Mom passed away in 2001 (pancreatic cancer), but I still get the urge every once in a while to pick up the phone and call her. Yesterday I had that urge, but since that can’t happen anymore, I just said out loud “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM” as soon as I woke up that morning.
I wrote several poems after she died. It was a time when a lot of thoughts were running around in my head (and heart)–about life, about love, about saying farewell to a mom who I thought would always be there for me. Later, I found out that in many ways she still is.
like nothing has changed.
But you are no longer performing.
Fears of inevitable departure
have been realized.
A shooting star
passed brightly over the darkest stage
the night that you released
your last breath here.
wondering; pondering why
fine details go by unrecognized—
revealed only after
the curtains are drawn.