I saw death,
though you were
Gone long before the end.
I knew your day had come.
Your bright, clear, blue eyes that once twinkled at a private joke or scolded
when pushed too far,
now clouded, unseeing.
Your mouth, that taught me to sing and kissed away my tears,
gaped and silenced.
Your curls, a tiny reward from your first fight with this dread disease,
Unfurled and limp, stuck to your head in a feverish sweat.
The calming scent of your perfume
replaced by the stench of sickness.
Your arms and hands that nursed me embraced and comforted me,
unfeeling and unmoving.
Your modesty was laid bare by the loose-fitting hospital gown,
no indignity spared trying to spare your life. Yet,
Death rattles ravaged each breath; I held mine, not knowing if you would
At last, I gently hugged your fragile shoulders and kissed your forehead;
"I love you, Mum."
I knew your love, too.
Death came for you that night,
Tuesday, March 17, 1987.
About the Creator
An educator and writer born and raised in eastern Maine, USA, bordered by Canada, New Hampshire, and the Atlantic Ocean. Anxious, depressed, content with life. Restless, unconcerned, compassionate. Eager to love and be loved. Am loved. Love
Nice one Mack