Here’s my story of a mother and son,
As she would tell it, when I was young.
This is her story, as well as mine,
One that I would tell, when she was done.
I lost my love, a friend, companion and teacher.
My bundle of joy, as I so often called her.
Whenever I did, she smiled and her sweetest.
Only to say, I love you my darling.
She would then say, she always would love me,
Sounds like a song, I would say that I know.
And she would trail with words out to space,
I love you, I. love you, I love you, ......away.
I had been given, a new lease of life,
Of hers when stricken, of stroke and smitten.
I had been told, she had two days to live,
Three years more was her gift just given.
She taught me love, loveful, and not hateful.
She taught me care, careful, and not careless.
She taught me think, thoughtful, and not thoughtless.
She taught me mind, mindful, and not mindless.
I always treasured, the moments we had.
Often asked for a hug and a squeeze.
She would then respond with gleam in her eye.
And give me her best that would leave her debile.
I was her hand when she itched for a scratch.
I was her feet when she stepped out to walk.
I was her body to turn and to twist,
So she could ease pain, for she could not turn twist.
I was her feel, to cover or not,
For she could not feel, seasons cold hot.
It was her own that I always felt.
And did so we share, as much I knew how,
Hunger and thirst, and all things of happiness,
Pain, sorrow, and all kinds of sadness.
She was my purpose, our purpose, very purpose,
Of hers and of mine, of love, of mother of son.
To her it was my happiness and to me it was hers,
And for her no other, to live for and not die.
She was with me, when said all hope was lost,
And that’s when I whispered, a line so she loved.
Then she did smile, a smile so calm joyous,
Her eyes closed dancing, in happiness and laughter.
And then she twitched words, to sing me the rhyme,
To make me see smile, in my moment of sadness.
Three times she slid, to a deep sleep of rest,
Only to awaken, when she heard me jest spaken.
By then it was certain, that her body was so broken,
No matter what spoken, she knew she was soon oaken.
She held on firm, as long as she could,
Until her frail weary body, slowly let her through.
And later I saw her, so lifeless and gone,
And as I carried her, she embraced me like straw.
She felt so weak, so helpless, and lorn,
Leaving me wondering what life was all for.
And so I dressed her, as best as I could,
For she would leave us, in a casket of wood.
I stroked her head, as gently as I could,
And lay her to rest, for the last time to look.
This was the last I would see her this life,
It was her toil, that gave me this life,
Three years in pain, to teach me more much,
Until her last and most in my loss.
Forgiveness I ask her, sharing if I did not,
In joy and happiness, old age and illness,
Pain and in sorrow, sadness and despair,
Her hopes and expectations, and all that I have not.
And so here I vow, from now and here onwards,
Share as my own, of each and all of us.
Happiness and joy, sadness and despair,
Old age and illness, of sorrow and pain,
A kindness and compassion, all that she was.
