Nancy K.
In honor of Mother’s Day we asked our blog readers to submit their stories by moms and about moms – real stories of love, life and caregiving. This submission is a poem sent to us by Nancy K. whose mother resides at in Concord Park’s Compass Memory Support Neighborhood in Concord MA.
Haiku Letter to Mom, April 5th
1
Memory Support.
Old Blue Eyes croons “Night and Day”
You dance in your chair.
While I wish I knew
answers to questions unasked
while there was still time
You teach me volumes
about gratitude and awe
and relationship.
We laugh ‘til breathless
about nothing at all but
isn’t that the point?
Dad’s been gone four years
Yet he’s a constant presence
never left your side
Your steady whistle
poignantly echoes two tones:
his high-pitched I’m Home!”
A habit foreign
to you… Now, with each exhale
Dad walks in the door.
Like glowing embers
your essence remains. Whistling,
elegant, complete.
2
Your hands once nimble
painted landscapes and flowers
you nurtured from seed.
You lived to feed us.
The word “brisket” was music
to everyone’s ears.
Now, even standing
up is impossibly hard.
Yet you welcome help
You thank the women
who dress you, quietly put you
to bed every night
(though sometimes you scream)
You don’t really mean it. You
just can’t understand.
One wintery day
I stepped into the unit
and you waved me near
Chirping, “Hi, Dawlin’!”
“We were just laughing about
our last vacation!”
“It was just divine!”
A word used liberally
when time once mattered.
Edges are broken
You drift, where? Translucent, your narrative, your skin
Proto-words slip in
The cracks admitting the light
The shattered vessel
Broken, remains pure
We embrace in cherished dreams.
Knowing what love is.