The year after my mother died
Was filled with anger
Sleepless nights
Getting up
And walking through my day
Where the best and worst thing
That I could do was forget
Even for a moment
The second year after my mother died
Was filled with anger
And joy
Thinking of
The way that she would laugh before
Her own punchlines
Cross her legs and say
“I have to pee!”
And laugh twice as hard,
The way that she said my name
Lighting up her face
The last time that I saw her,
And the left behind
Mountains of clothes,
Shoes and papers
That I am still sorting through
Where the best and worst thing
That I could do was remember
Even for a moment
In this third year after my mother died
There are still quiet moments
Where waves of grief
Wash over the days
“I miss you, Mom.”
Wanting to share
The way the moon
Had a rainbow around it tonight,
The committee of vultures
That rested on my roof
Between the kettle and the wake,
The deer that showed up again
Outside my back window
Standing so still
That I remember her asking
“Is it real?”
Getting up
And waking through my day
Where the best and worst thing
That I could do is nothing
Even for a moment
Written 9/15/2025. Dedicated to Vivienne Ying, my mom.
