For the past 16 years, the beginning of March has been hard for me. My mother passed away after a long illness on March 2, 2001. Eight years ago, that pain doubled when my dad passed on March 6, 2016. It is a blessing having the best parents a child could ask for, but it does make the missing them so much harder when they’re gone.
As I remember it, the weather on March 2, 2001 was cold and sunny, very much like it is here today, though I don’t think we had the strong winds that day. I only recall the grief of final breaths.
It Happens Every Day
(dedicated to my parents)
Thinking of you is nothing new;
it happens every day,
not as consistent as a Swiss clockwork,
but as naturally as breathing,
and I miss you as much
as I would breathing, if it should stop.
Outside my window the wind whips the elms
into what would be a ghoulish dance
on a moonlit night instead of this sunny day.
Thoughts of you swirl around me,
small wind-tossed dust devils
threatening to develop into tornadoes
that will swallow me whole if I let them.
If I listen closely, I hear your whispers in the wind.
It’s only your love that keeps me grounded.
~Elise Skidmore ©2017