Tuesday, March 22, was my mom's birthday. My mom passed away in June of 2010.
So this year, 2011, is the first time I cannot not wish her a happy birthday in person.
This post is a tribute to her.
Today is Mama's Birthday
It is the first happy birthday morning with no mama to blow a kiss to
The first when I sing only to myself
She would be 98 today
Hard of hearing
Hard of short-term memory
Hard of walking
Or of standing without pain
I want to feel her life force hurled my way once more
Hear her deep raspy voice complain of age
Of cramping calves
Feel the strength of her embrace
Stare into her eager tender look
Hear the rhythm and the scrape of her walker
Making its way from bed to bath and back
I want to find her at the kitchen table
Poring over German magazines
Working crossword puzzles
Keeping up with gossip about European royalty
Where the greatest tragedy is the final episode of her favorite soap opera
Her 'holy hour'
Where the big decision is what to eat for dinner --
Grilled cheese and tomato or leftover spinach casserole
And later - more decisions
To play Rummi-Kub or watch German crime TV
Enjoy an Irish Cream or go directly to a sleeping pill
I miss you much, mama...
So this year, 2011, is the first time I cannot not wish her a happy birthday in person.
This post is a tribute to her.
Today is Mama's Birthday
It is the first happy birthday morning with no mama to blow a kiss to
The first when I sing only to myself
She would be 98 today
Hard of hearing
Hard of short-term memory
Hard of walking
Or of standing without pain
I want to feel her life force hurled my way once more
Hear her deep raspy voice complain of age
Of cramping calves
Feel the strength of her embrace
Stare into her eager tender look
Hear the rhythm and the scrape of her walker
Making its way from bed to bath and back
I want to find her at the kitchen table
Poring over German magazines
Working crossword puzzles
Keeping up with gossip about European royalty
Where the greatest tragedy is the final episode of her favorite soap opera
Her 'holy hour'
Where the big decision is what to eat for dinner --
Grilled cheese and tomato or leftover spinach casserole
And later - more decisions
To play Rummi-Kub or watch German crime TV
Enjoy an Irish Cream or go directly to a sleeping pill
I miss you much, mama...
This strikes home for me. My father passed away two years ago and would have had his 94th birthday this month. One message I get from your poem is that there is a part of us that never grows old, the child-like quality we all have, as in "Stare into her eager tender look." My Dad showed this side of himself near the end-- the child within. Thank you, Miriam.
ReplyDeleteIt has been a year since your comment about your father in relation to my poem about my mother. Meanwhile, my brother's mother-in-law passed away, and I wrote a poem about her. It brings to mind what you said about the child-like quality. So perhaps I will share that poem with you and see if it captures what you are talking about.
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