What would it be like to lay on your chest
and cry about my dying dad?

I wonder sometimes, if I'm being dramatic
But, no.
It's not dramatic, as it is right now, he is dying.
The chemo is killing the tumor and it's killing him in equal measure.

My mother held me today
In the crook of her neck I rested my head
Her arms wrapped perfectly around my back
And I listened to her heartbeat
The heartbeat that my whole body knows
I rested against her secure, warm body
With my own arms curled into my own chest
I cried little sobs
That she soothed and cooed

Is this what it takes for me to rest against
My mother's chest? (the judgement of my vulnerability asks me in its relentless way)
My father's decline and weakness?
No, not just this (I respond in patience)
This and many other things.

I want to be a good mother one day
a wonderful mother
I want to be a secure partner
Someone who is not anxious and avoidant
And fearful
Maybe this is all allowing me to heal that (the part of me that wants to make sense of this suffering suggests)

I left the house
Then I thought that I should go back inside and hug my dad
Who is still alive
So I did
And a tear slipped as I told him to take it easy

Then my mother saw my crying face
And burst to her feet
I'm sure she thought he was dead and I was coming to tell her
He is that fragile (with this phrase I wonder who do I need to convince that he is as unwell as he is? Myself of course, the part from the beginning of the poem where I wonder if I am being dramatic)
But I told her he was okay and I was not
And she told me to sit beside her
1 month ago, two months ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 15 years ago,
I would have never ever sat so close to her, rested against her chest,
Listened with such open ears to her heartbeat,
Let myself admit how soothing it is,
How it is her special heartbeat,
Her firm, warm arms
Her voice
That can soothe me only in that way
And that this is okay
That this is natural and I am beyond lucky to have such a mother
So, in pure, lovely vulnerability
I let her hold me and she did not let go until I pulled away,
And I did not pull away for a good long while

Healing occurred in her arms.
The healing of a small, scared child who was still waiting in my chest to be held in this way.

When did I last lay against someone and cry?
Allow myself to be held?
Allow them to feel the hitch of my shoulders?
And relax without that stiff little guard keeping my heart in the box?

Probably in college with a close friend, but I don't remember.

So, in my reality,
This is the first time.
A new life began for me today.
A new agreement to be held safe when I feel scared and sad
A new agreement to be soothed
And to feel safe
To be regulated
To recover
To rest assured
Rather than rest in anxious suspense or  in distracted quiet as I do other times.

Yes in this new timeline,
I know what it is like to rest against
A chest and cry
Not just any chest, I chide and remind,
My mother's chest
Wow, how soft am I becoming?
That I can enjoy this special medicine?
What other medicine's that life has to offer will I
Enjoy soon?
In what other ways can I become soft and open?
Open to receive and allow.