I had already said “goodbye. “
as you slipped away millimeter by millimeter
I was the voice on the phone every week
who you no longer remembered
I called for Dad
To show my love for his steadfast care
who was there for all versions of you
in my dreams, you were still
brewing your favorite
strong black coffee
I’d wake up with a start
only to remember
You no longer drank coffee
Or made sense anymore
sadness wrapped itself in my sheets
our disagreements dissolved
into the night
I gulped back your cruel fate
When on Christmas Day
you slipped away
Relief to your beleaguered body
bittersweet loss for Dad
I chose your final outfit,
this demure floral shift
that had become a favorite of yours
in those last bed-bound years
a complete reversal in style
from your prior bold fashions
A frigid January Monday on the Gulf Coast
came the time to lay you to rest
stained glass windows
picture board memories
compiled through hours of shifting boxes
your beloved French chansons played
for my German-born Mama
Dad shared stories with a small chapel audience
I couldn’t find my voice
the weight of death sat on my heart
you had always wanted to be buried in Germany
as we watched the attempts to lower the
casket
into the frozen Texas ground
from the backseat of a rental car
my teary face reflected in the side mirror
we left the cemetery
with single red roses in hand
Auf Wiedersehen, Mama
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 3:56 PM UTC
I had already said “goodbye. “
as you slipped away millimeter by millimeter
I was the voice on the phone every week
who you no longer remembered
I called for Dad
To show my love for his steadfast care
who was there for all versions of you
in my dreams, you were still
brewing your favorite
strong black coffee
I’d wake up with a start
only to remember
You no longer drank coffee
Or made sense anymore
sadness wrapped itself in my sheets
our disagreements dissolved
into the night
I gulped back your cruel fate
When on Christmas Day
you slipped away
Relief to your beleaguered body
bittersweet loss for Dad
I chose your final outfit,
this demure floral shift
that had become a favorite of yours
in those last bed-bound years
a complete reversal in style
from your prior bold fashions
A frigid January Monday on the Gulf Coast
came the time to lay you to rest
stained glass windows
picture board memories
compiled through hours of shifting boxes
your beloved French chansons played
for my German-born Mama
Dad shared stories with a small chapel audience
I couldn’t find my voice
the weight of death sat on my heart
you had always wanted to be buried in Germany
as we watched the attempts to lower the
casket
into the frozen Texas ground
from the backseat of a rental car
my teary face reflected in the side mirror
we left the cemetery
with single red roses in hand
Auf Wiedersehen, Mama
My Mom died in Dec '23, after almost 10 years of dementia. It's taken 2 years for me to process her death, my feelings of guilt and regrets that our relationship was so fraught with different issues. And it was a challenge to corral my thoughts and words. Thank you for giving me a read.
