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Lifes Perfume I did not know she had an odor, Until my mom was three days dead. It fell to me to do the cleaning. To strip and wash, her unmade bed. So there I was, down in the basement, With spider webbing, damp and dark. I picked up sheets, inhaling deeply; My mothers scent was like a spark. Ignighting tears and sobs of wanting, I felt her presence by my side. She held me in the sheets and bedding. Please don't leave mom, is what I cried. Her perfume lingering, like no other One last reminder, scent of life. A fragrence of her spirits essence. Friend, sister, daughter, mother, wife. In sobs of longing, tears released. Her perfume surely, I shall miss. The scent of mother lingers near. Not unlike some, ethereal kiss. Been twenty years, since last I smelled her. Amid the bedding, one last time. Don't weep my dear, I am still with you. "Deaths not the end, it's only dying". |
Additional Notes:
I have found writing a wonderful way to make peace with feelings that were too painful to articulate. My mother died at the age of 52, my dad the same age died 8 months after her.
This is one that most of us face somewhere in out lives. Today I am grateful for the opportunity to have had the opportunity to have known her essence. I turn 52 this year so the time is ripe to do the work.
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