haikai

A Memorial Mother’s Day

Mom and Frankie, Christmas 2011

Rainfall. Temperatures plummet below fifty degrees F, from almost seventy yesterday. Every so often, leaves rustle and the wind chimes sound. We recover from hosting thirty of our family for Frankie’s confirmation barbeque. A quiet day resting at home is the Mother’s Day present Mira wants most this year.

wet fire pit

the last ambers

extinguished

A bittersweet Mother’s Day this year. I’m more than happy to relax at home, too. But today marks the third anniversary of my mother’s death. Considering she passed four days after Mother’s day in 2016, it was only a matter of time before this happened.

daffodil petals

a shadow across

her engraved name

The rain falls harder now. I feel the dull ache of loss stir. Grief waxes and wanes, most days. But the loss, now, is a scar that mildly throbs. Many people say it gets better with time, but they are wrong. I adapt, surfing each wave of sorrow as it comes, with a dread proficiency that comes with practice.

This bittersweet Mother’s Day is just another such opportunity.

raindrops

clinging to their stems

rhododendrons

for Poets United’s Poetry Pantry #479

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23 replies »

  1. Oh yes. My mother died around Mother’s Day too. I remembering stepping out of the hospital realizing my mother was gone. It doesnt get better. As you say, we adapt to the loss. That absence becomes a presence that we live with forever. You have written this so beautifully, Frank. And yes, a quiet do-nothing day is the best kind of day!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lovely! I’m not sure if this is pathetic fallacy (in terms of the definition of that literary device), but the way nature mirrors mood and feeling and atmosphere (and the way that you have woven that through your lines) in this poignant poetic work is so compelling. Beautifully constructed. This is really a stunning piece of writing.

    Liked by 1 person

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