I miss my mother every day. I don’t talk about her very often, or really at all. Since she died on October 1, 2015, I have not posted any pictures about her online for her birthday, none of the cute “Miss my mother” posts. No, I seem to have closed off that side of my heart because it makes me too sad to think about. Since having a daughter, I’ve been trying to tell her about her grandmother but every time I do I start crying. Ugh… It’s just not easy being without a mother, especially when you had the best darn mother ever.
Here is a poem I wrote a few months back for my mother. She was my biggest fan and I miss her everyday. If anybody else out there has lost their mother, I feel for you. And if you haven’t, please reach out to yours and let them know how much they mean to you. You will not regret it.
Rose Scented Sheri Lynn
Happy 61st birthday, mother—
Your body is ash in Resurrection Bay,
Your soul & memories live on.
I miss you badly everyday
Unsure of the way
To show it— To share it.
Your quiet laugh; Your humble smile; Your endless support;
You listened intently; Loved unconditionally; Leaned heavily.
I have a baby now, mother—
Do you see?
She shares your middle name & sincere smile.
She loves her mama like you loved yours & I loved mine.
I am married now, mama—
Do you see?
I finally found the woman I was meant for, whatever that means.
Or did she find me?
She is tough, tender, kind, hard working. She values family, food, silence, nature.
She speaks softly when I need it, firm when I’m unwell.
You would love her like a daughter.
Or do you?
I want to believe
You are watching & protecting us from unseen forces—Protecting me from myself;
Teaching us in our sleep states.
I want to believe
You still love me as a son & Primrose Flora Lynn as a grandmother—
You are not only 61 years old, but 61 billion years old.
You are in the birch leaves & trees, the whales & eagles. You touch my feet as I stand in Cook Inlet & cast & I catch you every time I reel in. You are the warm sun kissing my baby’s cheeks, ripening our berries & vegetables, drying our clothes on the line. You are water in our well used to do laundry—
How you loved doing laundry.
You are the blue moon & blue sky, looking out at all beings in omniscient & omnipresent equanimity.
You are You, and that was always enough.
I want to believe
You exist outside of body & mind—
Yet sometimes I question all of it.
Sometimes it feels like you are dead & that is that so I lace up my boots & work the soil without Speaking your name. But if I bottle up the most important influence in my life,
My baby & wife
Will miss out on your life & I will stay sad and explosive.
Do you see my actions, mother?
Are you shaking your narwhal head from heaven, covering your eyes & ears as I yell mean things at innocent people like I am back at war?
If you can hear my thoughts, please tender my heart & mind. Help me to be more like you;
Less angry.
Help me to be kind every moment, satisfied with what I have & where I am.
Fully present with my family—
Here & Now.
Savanna smelled roses in our room last night.
You always said the smell of roses indicates an angel or guardian spirit.
You were here…
You are here…
Aren’t you?
