My Mother: Family Archives
I Will Never Forget
A Modified Trimeric
The way the sunlight played across your face,
the words you always had to comfort me,
the silent presence, strength—sometimes severe,
the smile, the gratitude and grace.
Those words you always had to comfort me,
when darkness threatened to seep in, destroy—
I think of these and find the courage to go on.
Your silent presence, strength—sometimes severe,
your touch, just so, to heal or to correct.
This quiet, heavy–touch, beyond my reach.
Your smile, your gratitude and grace—
Do these endure in shadows of your mind?
Although you’re here, you are no longer you.
Yet, sunlight plays forever on your face.
Each day you tell me never to forget
that I will always be your little girl.
Today for dVerse Poetics, we are asked to remember someone we have lost. This is addressed to my dear 95-year-old mother who suffers from ever-increasing dementia. She has always been my best friend. Even though we have spent most of our lives at a geographical disadvantage, she was there for me. I still call her, every day or two or three. The conversation is the same. If I try to tell her something off-script, she cannot follow it, But one thing she says to me each and every time is this: “Never forget you are my little girl.”
Those of you who have dealt with dementia, as I have my entire life as a nurse, understand the we lose our loved one an inch at a time. And yet, the wonder is this–somewhere inside is that person who always was, imprisoned, so to speak and totally living in the present moment. It is our job to provide them with one pleasant moment at a time.
Please join us today at dVerse.