Remembering
The first week in March is a rough one for me. Both of my parents died then, eight years apart. It’s been 24 years since my Mom passed, 16 since my Dad. I was with my father when he moved on to be with my mother. It was probably the most difficult thing I’ve done in my life, but I’m glad I was there.
I’ve been thinking about both my parents a lot the past couple of days, and how blessed I was to have them. I wrote this poem not long after my Dad left us. It was included in my first book, Poems from the Edge of Spring back in 2011. I remember tears streaming down my face as I wrote it, and all these years later, it still moves me. I know both of my parents are smiling down on me, proud of what I’ve accomplished, and though I still count backwards, I’ve reached the point where I can revel in the joys of having them in my life.
Counting
I can't stop counting
the measure doesn't matter
three weeks or
twenty-one days
it's all the same
and time keeps ticking
backward
memories come uninvited
and stay for tea
while I recall in minute detail
the moments leading
to our last goodbye
tear-soaked whispers
of love and assurance
letting go when
all I really want
is to beg you to stay
inhaled breath
counting
long
seconds
until
your
final
exhalation
alone
I laid my head on your chest
knowing there were no heartbeats left
to count
I have done this before
days turn into weeks
weeks into months
months into years
always counting
backward
until one day
tears subside
and I begin to tally
the many joys
of having you in my life
~Elise Skidmore ©2025
Very poignant. I didn’t know your Mom but
You know I adored your Dad.😊
Thank you, Kathi. Both my parents were very special people. Both were very easy-going, though my mother used to say she had to “play the bad guy sometimes” because otherwise we kids would have no discipline and others would walk all over my dad. They were meant to be together. Any time I’ve visited a psychic, they always show up together, usually holding hands (which one psychic told me wasn’t common), my father starts talking, then my mother takes over, which is much the way it was in life. My father would do anything to make her happy. I miss them both.
Beautiful, my parents died on the same day in May many years apart. I always think that maybe my father came for her on that day, I hope so. I’m hoping that my husband Raymond will come for me when it’s my time. It’s hard waiting I miss him so much. Thank you for your beautiful words.
Thank you, Lucille.
You may or may not remember me talking about how after my father passed, we went back to my sister’s house and I went into his room to look for pictures we could use for his memorial service. There was a particular on of he and my mother, taken before they were married in 1947 that he always had in a frame on his dresser. It’s a beautiful B&W photo, taken in some restaurant. My mother is looking mostly at the camera (which was unusual for her) but my dad only had eyes for her. I pried open the frame to get the photo and there, in my mother’s handwriting, it said: Ewald tells me he love me and I him March 6,1947. I’d never seen the back of the photo before, and I took it as a sign that they were together again. As a side note, my mother always said “6” when asked for her favorite number, and we always thought it was because her birthday was February 6th. After seeing the back of the photo, I decided that was probably the reason.
So I believe your husband will be waiting for it, but selfishly on my part, I hope that’s still a good while away.