Patricia M Osborne

It’s four years since my mum went to sleep for the final time and for me, like I am sure for most people, the pain doesn’t go away but we just get better at putting one foot in front of the other.

Well today here’s a poem for Mum. I wrote this about a year ago when I was doing a Blues Course with the Poetry School. It gave me consolation when I thought she hadn’t known I was there. Looking back, I realised that she did.

I was very lucky that I had a wonderful mum that always put her children first. She was one of the most inspiring women I have ever known.

For Mum.

 

 

Last Moments

Milky eyes
stare into space,

I drip water from a straw
into opened lips,

you suck but no words
leave your mouth.

I squeeze your hand
you squeeze mine,

I stroke long fingers
with tenderness.

The doctor calls me from the room:

you take a last gasp of air
at 11:22am and slip away,

not allowing goodbyes:

I’m not ready for you to die.

A photo frame hangs in my study,
nut-brown eyes sparkle,
open lips smile down at me.

A voice in my head whispers my name,
‘you’re not alone, I’m still here.’

Memories flood my mind:
kisses, cuddles and tucks up in bed,

playing catch, hopscotch, skipping,
two balls banging on the wall,

karaoke in the lounge,
giggles as we grease dance,

you twirl me under your arm,
we jive around the room,

delicious dinners,
a glass of Shiraz,

thrashings at Scrabble
and crosswords,

walks by the sea,
sandcastles on the sand,

that last Sunday morning
when I stroked and held your hand.

You’ll always be part of me,
You’ll always be in my heart

but not quite the same
as holding you in my arms.