Appreciated your show with Jane Gross....her thoughts and the segement of her writing that were shared. My mother is also deceased, but her long good-by, due to dementia, silbing conflict, the nursing home in which she was placed contained elements I felt terrible about at the time and still do. This poem captures a lot of it:
No Longer There
I see her in the cornerThe left side of her faceMidnight blue with bruises,Her eyebrow stitched together-My sister called meThe previous night:“They say she fell,And her rings are gone,Probably stolen.”I walk toward her,Look down at her left handResting, bare and lonely,On the arm of the wheelchair-The rings she had wornFor some fifty years-No longer there.I sit down beside her,Holding resignation like a pillowOver the face of my spirit.Oh well, what does it matter;So much of her is gone—The parts of her that madeAnd carried me into life,Inch upon inch from herEndlessly collapsing spine,Her vision of anything but gray,Her mind and all it ever knewFrom the lifting of a spoonTo the name for a spoonOr even the person it feeds--Her name, Margaret.So, what are circles of gold,Anymore, to her or to me.My dad, who paid five dollarsA week, to buy them--He’s also gone.He went so fast,It knocked the windRight out of my heart.She’s going so slowly,It’s knocking all the senseOut of life.
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