You’ll never get to see my kids.
I had this stupid f***ing notion
that you would live forever
that you would see me graduate.
That you would see me walk down,
receive that paper and shake hands.
You would cry and the tears would
run in rivers, collecting in
wrinkles of a hard life that you chose,
you endured, and you held.
That won in the end. That
caught you while you were sleeping
poured poison in your ear
A bitter Claudius, jealous of your strength
and your fortitude.
You forgot my name sometimes, or who
my mom was, but you never really forgot me.
Your skeletal hands would grip mine so tightly.
Ahmandah, you slurred thinly.
You outlived most of your friends, and your
son isolated you.
Your funeral crowd was sparse.

But did you see how we wailed?
Did you understand how hard it was to close the casket on you
to see your face for the last time.
It was work to understand you in life
and I admit that sometimes I just nodded
and smiled and pretended I understood.
Standing there in a cold mausoleum,
I understood
quite clearly
how much
I would miss you.
My mom cried and cried.
days after I would catch her in room
crying in the dark.
I’m thinking about her