As you drew your last gasps of life in my arms,
I instinctively did my best to ease your suffering--singing, talking, smiling, streichling...what else?
Vivid, yet skewed by anxiety and tears,
you were traveling from this plane to the next.
The Priest advised me to tell you it was ok to let go;
to tell you everyone was doing fine so that you could die in peace.
Yes, you were dying, yet miraculously watched my mouth like a newborn as I recited each and every one of us --
Until no more, you were gone.
Nooooo, you weren't!
I wanted you to streichel me as you'd done a thousand times since I were a baby,
To hold and comfort me while I sobbed,
I wanted you to walk me through the park in my stroller,
I wanted to watch you knit and crochet,
I wanted to hear you play the accordion with daddy and your friends,
I wanted you say it was okay to wear my favorite velvet jumper two sizes too small,
I wanted your dumplings in brown gravy and red cabbage,
I wanted to beg you to see the Beatles at Shea Stadium,
I wanted us to buy new outfits at the Danforth Outlet together,
I wanted us to go to your favorite honky-tonk to hear Hank Williams and Kitty Wells belt out their blues to you,
I wanted us to visit Woodstock, then go to lunch,
and another, and another, and another, ad infinitum, anytime, anywhere.
And in your twilight, I wanted to be there while Alzheimers dominated.
To shake you from its cruelty, yet not to leave,
That we'd continue to share moments only a daughter and mother shared,
Our doors swinging in both directions, always.
I miss you, and will love you until my last breath.
Happy Birthday, my Angel. I pray Janie and Joey are blowing out your candles with you, for us.