Mamma do you know?
I miss you every day. I see others with their mothers and I judge them. I scrutinize whether they deserve to have their mothers in their lives. I listen to their conversations and analyze their tone of voice. I rarely explain to these privileged people their elevated status; but I feel it all the time.
To avoid negative thoughts, I focus on the hope that you can see me…
The hope that you know my heart…
The hope that our connection isn’t really dead.
I felt you by my side as I accepted my Distinguished Graduate Student in English Studies award. I felt your hazel eyes on me - aglow with pride. I heard your once-familiar voice tell me that I was the daughter you’d always wanted. I felt your arm around my shoulders and your sweet butterfly kiss on my cheek.
I miss you, mamma.
I don’t feel complete without you.
But I know you prepared me for this.
You continuously built me up so you would be sure I could fly.
You knew I would be devastated at your loss.
And I still hear your voice telling me to “Stop crying! Cheer up! There are people who DON’T miss their mothers when they go. You wouldn’t want to be one of those would you?”
Darn it, Ethel!
How did you always know just the thing to say to me? Who gave you your words? How could someone who was chronically late have such spot-on timing?
There are many things about you, Ethel, that remain an enigma to me.
I’ll never know your heart like I want to.
But I rest in the knowledge that I have your heart in me.
A heart that beats for God, for family, for education.
Ethel’s heart lives in her daughter’s chest and that will just have to be enough.