Oct 30, 2020
I wrote this to my mother when she was ailing before she died in the hospital.
Sleepy from the drugs, I read it out to her, first draft, the first stanza anyway.
Mum opened her eyes wide, surprised and smiling, sat up a little straighter in bed and looked into my face for the longest time.
She blew me a kiss, told me she couldn't be all of those things, blushing a little.
It made me cry when I said she was. I meant it, all true, completely genuine.
I'm still missing Mum, but it's easier after six months has gone by, the half-anniversary was yesterday.
In all the world is there anyone so vital to us as our mums?
Nah, don’t think so.
Thank you.
*Author’s own photo.
