I am busy, distracted, and busy again.
Be engaged and present, I am told.
I clean and shop, back to work, stay busy.
I function, I’m busy, it’s good.
My mother-in-law’s life now threaded into ours.
My mother’s will be soon, too.
Love for my children and husband, so lovely.
Not the life it could or it should.
I carry him still, my 19-year old son.
Once in my womb, now in my heart.
Braided into my soul, inhaled into my essence.
And I keep busy, always moving.
A mother is a forever thing we say.
But how can I mother to him?
Yes, a mother to others, a grandmother, too
There’s an empty room and unworn clothes.
Guitars unplayed, books laying fallow.
Courses not completed, a degree unfinished.
A never-to-be marriage and children, a life unlived.
I keep it at bay, underneath a busy life.
But it rises like bile at will.
Wraps a film around me, nothing is clear.
So I keep busy and busier still.
The outside belies the inside, nothing is neat.
The organs weep, the heart quickly tires.
The blood pulses green, the mind jealous of others.
So we stay busy and busy again.
From conception onward we hold keys to souls.
We diaper, we feed; we nurture and cherish and love.
When they slip and fall, we catch them.
We dry their tears, we hold them tight.
They are vulnerable and we are wise.
Life is good.
At each age and stage, we form and shape them.
We hope to love them enough.
We correct them and shout.
We teach them and speech them.
Remember to kiss them goodnite.
Endless days, rules and schedules.
Be gracious and courteous, polite and kind.
We pray for their future; we expect no less.
And believe we’ll see it all with age.
Days pass, time flies.
Our boy is no longer here.
Yet I am still his mother.
I miss him and love him.
And I told him we’d be okay.
I know I’m not at fault, but a voice inside says yes.
I should not have let him go unknown alone.
I wish I could have taken better care.
But I told him I’d be okay.
I hoped, I prayed, I loved him enough.
But the key and womb are gone.
And now it is he who is wise beyond his years.
Me, I’m now susceptible to life.
I keep busy, stay busy.
My boy forever in my heart.
The roles reversed, he’ll welcome me one day.
Happy Mother’s Day to us.