It’s not so often anymore
that Mom is with me
but there she was tonight
in the silence,
like a secret or a sore place.
I still dream of being with her
when she died.
I still scold myself
for missing it.
So when the call came
I drove the freeways
in the middle of the night
to a stillness filled with people –
hospice, caregivers.
And when I was finally left alone
to watch over her
I draped her scarf around my shoulders
and ripped the fabric
This was what happened first.
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I can't tell you how much I love that "This is what happened first' is your last line! I love also 'I draped her scarf around my shoulders
ReplyDeleteand ripped the fabric' Another lovely poem from you - another reason I can't go around saying I don't like poetry!