You are an ancestor now Mom…
Your strong gnarled fingers no longer play the piano…
Yet your music lives in me, my sister and my brother.
Inside of me is etched the final memory of you bebopping to the
music of the piano–eighty pounds-can’t walk, can’t talk–but you
could bang out a tune—
Your spirit flying in joy!
“Failure to thrive” they say
But of course you did thrive…
And with such steady determination
And lots of dignity.
Our ordinary moments were so rich–
Sometimes laughing so hard we could barely stand up.
I have no regrets and I hope you haven’t either.
You said to me many times…”You were unexpected”.
Well I’m sure glad you let me into your life Mom.
And so where once you were like the
Birch tree to me– strong, lean, and bent over
with the weight of winter snow-
Now you are the red bud blooming in May….
(written May 8, 1999)
Happy Mother’s day….