My Mom

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. 

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