the amount of time for the moon to cycle,
One month today my mother has been gone.
It seems like so much longer,
it seems like only yesterday.
I am doing fine,
I am falling to pieces.
It still doesn’t seem real.
Or real in a surreal sort of way.
Grief is so strange.
It isn’t at all like I thought it would be.
Most of the time I am fine
Then, like a train hitting my body,
I am breathless,
With a voice in my head screaming, “I will never talk to my mother again!”.
She has always answered my questions,
“How do I cook fresh green beans?”
“KB has a strange red rash”
“How do I remove grass stains?”
Now I have no mother.
I am motherless.
How can that be?
She has always been my one constant in an unconstant world.