I lost my mother on August 23, 2021. I still am processing this. It is hard to come to grips with the fact that I will never see her again this side of death. I will never hear her laugh, listen to her stories, share gossip, or cook together again. My heart is full of wonderful memories. They will sustain me. The morning she died, I needed to keep busy. I had a mountain of tomatoes, so I canned sauce. After placing the jars out to cool and seal, I wrote this poem.
Tomatoes and Death August 23, 2021
I’m canning tomatoes today
Its displacement activity
I know it and so does Mom
Memories of canning tomatoes fill
The jars of my mind as I cut out the core of
Each one just like my core has been cut out
I remember slicing them into chunky pieces
Just like I do today, feeling that I’ve been sliced to bits
We’d cook them until they were broken down
And I feel broken down today
My arm gets tired running them through the juicer
Pressing down to get the meaty juice out
Then discarding the seeds and skin as useless
But my skin is still the same. I still need it
Along with everything else in my life
Though I feel discarded myself now
The jars of rich red sauce sit to cool
With lids tightly screwed on. I hope they all seal
I trust they will just like I will heal
But today I mourn my Mom.