For my mother, who died suddenly of heart failure after a long struggle with several chronic conditions
The rain poured down this morning
after weeks of perfect sun.
I imagine you resting, protected
and watching, slowed by the cover
and stilled by the steady drum
of rain on leaves. I miss you so much.
It hits me in waves—the mist over
trees projecting me to London, where you
will never go. My heart breaks but
is not broken. It is pure love
and longing for the way you died,
suddenly and alone. But I will try
not to get caught in the details
but lose myself in the memories—
the feel of your arms
surrounding me with a towel after
a swim, or your hands holding mine
after I chastised you yet again
for not taking good care of yourself.
I will feel this, the sudden rush
not as a cavalcade of disaster but of love.
