Today I saw a photo of my beautiful mother with three of her sisters. Yes, she looked frail and a few more shades of pail than I have memory of her ever being, but I can recall her suit. It was one of her favourite suits.
In fact, it was her favourite suit. I only remember that because we buried her in that custom made suit.
Bold, vibrant, beautiful
All words I describe you with
I simply wish I had used those words
In your presence.
So caught up in my own
That I was unmoved by the life force
That shook and rattled your bones
Tried to set you free.
The life force that kept you pushing,
now pushes me.
Your spirit danced when your body could only think of it.
Your mind surged,
And your body couldn’t hold you.
It barely held your dreams.
I can hardly wait,
Looking forward anxiously
to see you dance again,
After the rain.
It seemed like a mirage. Each person in that photo was older now, and she had disappeared. Staring intently at her face, my mind searched for other references. Not finding any in recent memory, it stored it, cross-checking her face relentlessly. As always, the image of her face is surreal, because it was ever present for 16 years, and then it vanished. A fact that I mourn in different ways. A fact that I have tackled and carried with me for almost 7 years. She may have vanished from this world but never from mine.