Sunday, May 11, 2003
at 5:33 PMAs The Hearse Goes By
As I stepped out of the truck this morning to attend work, The Father told me not to hit anyone. I looked back at him, marginally confused, and he clarified, "Just because it's Mother's Day." I thanked him for depressing me, as I had not considered the fact that I do not have a mommy anymore, until he mentioned it. On the fifteenth her birthday occurs and on the nineteenth falls her death date. It ought to be a morbid week.
My mother died five years ago, and I most often feel as if she was never here. She sang and played piano; thus, certain songs and lyrics remind me of her. When I read through Thomas Hardy's poem, "Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave?", I hear her voice helping me recite the words for the third grade poetry contest.
Time to stop thinking.
