My Mother Sleeps
I walk softly through this life---
for my mother sleeps with the angels and Jesus.
I listen carefully,
through the echoes of my longing;
I want her here,
“Hush child”, she tells me,
“I am here and I am healed,
and you have work to do!”
Remember me, child:
my words when your head was hard---
my hands that softened your behind,
and broke your fall.
Walk softly, Child,
and let me sleep…
until we meet again.
© 2008 Camille Gray. All rights reserved.
Two of my best friend are orphans. One is also a widow. My heart aches over their unimaginable losses. An abundance of love for them, coupled by my tendencies as an oldest child stirs a longing in me to mend what is broken in them. It is a powerlessness that I find difficult to accept. I try to compensate for my limitations by listening and writing. I want to love them with my voice, hug them with my thoughts; I want to kiss them with the words that will be the salve for every wound enmeshed in their loss.
The losses in my life have been limited to what can tangibly be replaced. The orphan and the widow are not so fortunate. Each time I write, I endeavor to restore in spirit what cannot be physically replaced. I remind a son and a daughter of their mothers' heart; I wishfully recall what a father might say if one more chance were afforded. With my pen or a stroke of the keyboard, I remind the widow of all that was right between her and her groom. I preserve the belief of a celestial reunion.
To the orphaned son, your mother is so proud! A little boy's dreamed was not deferred. You became what an era of bigotry and words spoken in fear declared impossible. You remain bathed in the overflow of her unconditional love, which you have poured without measure over your own children.
To my widowed friend, he is the great love of your life; your soul mate. You loved him hard. And he left this realm loving you the only way he knew how to. Your life together is a celebration for all of eternity.
To my best friends, I want kiss this and make it all better. I am undone by my inadequacies. Forgive me for being human. May my love and my words allay your grief; may my pen and my intentions remind you of my love for you.