I Never Answered
Maybe
Just maybe
It’s better this way.
She doesn’t have to deal
With not being able to walk
With workers never coming on time
With constant pain and bed sores
With the ever-present oxygen tanks
And with me ignoring her calls.
Like the time she called me
On March 6th...
I never answered.
. . . . . . . .
I had a dream about her last night.
I knew she had died. I was crying loudly.
But, just then, I heard a door open.
I heard the familiar click of her power chair
Moving closer to me.
We didn’t say anything.
I just stood there and hugged her.
It’s almost as if I could actually feel it.
Her warmth
Her thin arms around my stomach
My face in her neck,
Her thick, greying brown hair tickling my cheek.
I gave her as many kisses as I could.
Then, the cruel, evil sound of my alarm went off.
Waking me up from a dream
Of something that’ll never happen again.
That dream was the happiest I remember being since she passed.
. . . . . . . .
March 7th 2016 is a day I’ll never forget.
It was a normal day,
All the way up to second period,
Eastern Civ. with Mr. Stewart.
His phone rang.
My dad and stepmom were here to pick me up.
‘Well, that’s odd. I must of had a doctors appointment today.’
I didn’t.
I went out to the truck.
It’s rusty blue color looked like the sky.
I smiled when I saw dad outside the truck waiting for me.
He, however, was not smiling.
My dad hugged me.
“What’s wrong, dad?”
“Your mother passed away in her sleep last night.”
I knew that he wasn’t lying, but I didn’t want to believe him.
She couldn’t pass so soon, could she?
. . . . . . . .
A few days later was her funeral.
I saw family I haven’t seen in years.
Distant cousins and great aunts
Even one of my mom’s workers was there.
We sang some familiar hymns.
Each note on the page stung me
Like a thousand black wasps.
I asked if later we could listen
To Toby Keith’s “Cryin’ For Me.”
Because she always told me
She wanted that played at her funeral.
I’ll never forget the tears I forced down my throat,
As each strum of the guitar played on.