{Quick write to tap into feelings:}
I want you to know you are so loved, Mum.
Want you to know that you deserved better,
that I didn’t do enough,
that every forgotten card, every lazy text, rushed,
Was me
Wrapped up in my own doings, usually for others, rarely for self,
should have been for you.
No regrets they say,
But I have a few.
Wished we had enjoyed each others company more sooner,
Wished we had been more accepting,
Like we were
At the end.
‘It doesn’t matter’ you say, as I weep my apologies, tell you how my heart is broken and I will miss you,
As I oil your skin, rub your joints,
Press my love into you, careful not to make it hurt
My god you were so tired and you didn’t want me to leave,
You would never say, but I asked and you would let me know.
Why did you not say what you needed Mum?
Tell me that it crushed you to not get a birthday card,
visits on Mothers day,
How desperate you were for a christmas together.
We should have done it last year
When our plans fell through but we always travel and we didnt want to,
You understand, I hope.
Although you never stated your needs, rather grumbled along obligated,
Or impatient or distracted by duty.
I didnt get it. Felt resentful
and yet,
Here I am,
Same duty bound, obligated self that can
Move a belligerant crowd,
Sought finances in grief, talk the computer-struck jobsworth to lighten the fuck up,
if it were for you.
“She just needs to go home!” I say to the uniforms who are trying to insist you stay in another night,
After being separated from your love
hours after hearing you had
weeks to live
My heart broke for you. For me. For all of us really.
“Stop being so bossy” you said.
Wonder where she gets it from – said no-one.
I cant imagine how poorly you must have been to spend so many hours on the sofa, in bed, not moving and doing and fixing and changing everything for everyone else.
You loved it though.
You really did and I will try and love this about me and us more and
not let a life of servitude feel like a waste,
when it is such a noble purpose.
Just because no one gets a plaque for thinking up and cooking every dinner for a week,
for considering who needs a lift to the doctors,
something fetching from the shop
a phone call making
But thats my role now.
Your husband is beside himself really but being brave and carrying on,
As I do all the things you used to,
and he is so relieved
‘You can’t be doing all this for me’ he says
and I joke that your not the first dependent man my mother has left that I have had to sort out.
Poor taste joke.
Funny in a small crowd.
Dad cant make the funeral afterall.
You were the love of his life you, know?
and yes, I know you thought he was an arsehole.
Woke on No sleep 