This is a poem I wrote for my mom for her birthday in September 2007, four months after my father – her husband of 25 years – died from esophageal cancer.
Passing time gives us no rest,
No chance to be or look our best,
Each morning drives us further away,
Even if this should be just your day.
Sorrow need not deprive us of joy,
Even if it takes all effort we employ.
Your birthday should be a celebration,
Even if our smiles are just decoration.
It is us that will manage, together.
This, like all things, we will weather.
Because we are a family preserved,
Even with our tragedies observed.
So today we may be one short,
But we look to each other for support.
And among our laughs and tears,
Our love for him manifests and appears.
Now we have many decades ahead,
And we cannot face them with any dread,
Because we each have so much to do,
Wishes we want to make come true.
And though some days are better than others,
This, your birthday, should be about mothers,
And everything you have given us,
And how our lives are your success.
I love you much more than I ever can say.
Let me tell you that everything will be okay.
Because you have us, and we have you,
And we have created this family anew.