When I awoke this morning, something seemed off. Then I realized: it was an anniversary, a sad one–the 7th year since I lost my mother to lung cancer.
We were all with her, all her children and a few partners. I’ve written a few poems about it, and since then, I often blog on her birthday. Today, though, called for a release, at least through what I am starting to call my “public fastwrites.”
It seems so long ago. A lot can happen in seven years. I believe I’m happier, in general (what does THAT mean?!). I wish we could go on walks these beautiful spring days. I wish she could join me on a lounge chair on my deck and just listen to the sound of the creek as the water runs over the rocks.
But wishing is futile. She’s gone–at least in bodily form. I do feel there’s still a connection though don’t ask me to explain in theological or metaphysical terms. That may be a cop-out and it also may be my journey for the remainder of my life.