one thousand one
The
cadence
of
the
ticking
clock
on
the
wall
above
the
door
is
ceaseless.
one thousand two
After drawing air in, a distant, harsh echo faintly rattles within her
eyes holding my heart while she holds on
her chest indistinctly rises –
Mom, remember the chair in the Kallin house?
I remember those nights. You’d come into my room,
and we’d tiptoe through the house, to the chair. I’d sit in
your lap, arms around your neck, snuggling close to you.
You said I was a part of you. I said the same to you.
That never changed.
We may not be alike, but we are the same.
one thousand sixteen
- squeezing knowingly
the air drained, almost unnoticeably
a long pause, gathering strength, musters a weak uprising of her chest -
Good grief, Mom. Think about all the
things that happened. We were always together.
Really, I know that you were the one who was
always there for me – every time.
I don’t think I would’ve made it without you.
You taught me how to stand in the flames
and become stronger. I love you – thank you.
- shudders as her breath is released and I hold on -
one thousand twenty-six
But it was the fun. Even in the roughest times,
we still had fun! You showed me how to find
the positive in anything. You called me Polly Anna!
But I got that from you.
Oh, the laughter.
The trips. The joy.
You made every moment of my life incredibly happy.
You gave me a really good life.
as her last word comes “Love,” with a sigh,
one thousand and forty-five
I put my lips to the hands that had always been there holding me, pushing me, supporting me, loving me -
I love you too, Mom. I don’t want you to hurt
anymore. You have fought.
You don’t have to fight anymore. You can go.
I will be okay.
I am lying to my mother.
You will always be with me
I will be okay because you’ve taught me…
- as my tears break through her last exhale swirling on unknown currents to rest upon the clouds and wait for her.
I hold my breath, watching for hers.
one thousand fifty-six
It does not come.
…but you didn’t teach me how to live without you.
Trying not to cry, I squeeze my eyes and her hand.
Nothing.
My head rests on her chest
my heart drops in response to the deafening silence of her exhausted heart
I find it implausible that my heart beats on.
one thousand fifty-seven
while hers does not.
I desperately want to stop time, for just another moment
one thousand fifty-eight
My throat tightens, and my soul screams.
And suddenly, I feel time stand still
Then,
as if to cruelly prove me wrong,
the clock’s hand sharply snaps to attention,
one thousand fifty-nine
and marches on.
The cadence of the ticking clock on the wall above the wall is ceaselessly moving into the darkest days
one thousand sixty
without her.
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