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Evelyn Genao Mar 2018
"Please, daddy!"
You were walking so fast.
Too fast for my little feet to keep up.
Was it that easy for you to leave me?

You heard my tear-filled screams, but you never stopped.
You just kept going.
Farther and farther away, not even trying to get one last look at me.
I punched, pulled, and pushed trying to make you stop.
You didn’t.
You just kept going.
Leaving me behind.
"Please don’t leave me!"

Pain.
I remember it too well.
The heart throbbing pain.
We watched as you left.
Me and mommy.
My eyes were wet.
Hers were dry, cold.
As if she knew this would happen.

I looked into mommy's eyes.
Her brown eyes tangled with lies.
Lying to me for you.
How long do I have to wait for you before you realize that what you did was a mistake? What was the reason you stayed away for so long?
Was it all the ****** **** you did in the past or is it because you don’t want me anymore?

Since you left, I dreamed of your return.
The day you would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear,
"I'm sorry for what I did. I promise I will never leave you again,
my little Cookie Monster
."
Then I wake up, hoping to see you.
Praying that it wasn’t all a dream.
But reality soon caught up, and the dream quickly died.

I remember all the tears I had rushing down my face
as I saw you leave me and mommy behind, to never return.
I'm so incomplete without you, I need my daddy back in my life.
You deceived me, you said you would always be there.
You pinky promised.
You broke your promise.
How can I trust you again?

Do you still think of me as your "cookie monster" or
a daughter you never loved, a daughter you could leave behind without a single goodbye in the blink of an eye? I wish you were here to watch me grow up but we both know that will never happen.

"I miss you so much! Won’t you please come back to me, daddy?
I just need to see your face one last time
."
Am I that disappointing I need to work to make you love me?

Hey, daddy even if you don’t love me I will always love you no matter what happens.
I bet you didn't even think about how I would feel when you left.
No, you only thought of yourself like you always do.

You missed all my birthdays, first dates, father-daughter dances,
and you may even miss my wedding, not that you even care.
Did you know that I would wait for the postman to bring the mail and check to see if there was a letter for me? But there never was.
I eventually stopped going, knowing nothing was there for me.  

"Well, daddy looks like you really didn't care about me buts it's in the past. Now I have a family who loves me, stays with me, and likes for who I am.
I don't need you anymore
.”

Daddy, I still need you. Please, come back.
When I was 6, my dad was deported to the Dominican Republic. I remember visiting him in prison before he was booted out of the country. I was only a child then and I don't remember much but the pain is still there. I didn't ever write down my feelings until my English teacher assigned the class a project where we had to write a poem about a struggle that impacted our lives. It was not the best and as the years went by I would add more to it, pouring my heart and soul into it. I think the day presented my poem to the class was the day that I wanted to become a writer. I hope you love this and be sure to comment your thoughts on it. Also, check out my other poems!!
JayceeJellies May 2015
Take care of me,
Be there for me.
Never discourage me,
Love me unconditionally.
You're supposed to be my mother.
But you treat me like I'm nothing.
I'm sick of your constant disrespect,
The loss of love in your eyes that makes me want to cry,
It's itching inside of the back of my mind.
And someday I'll say goodbye to you,
You won't want me to,
But you can't make me stay.
You're not my mom.
But until then,
I'll be walking in the rain.
Mom
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start

Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same ****

All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special      she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same

As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home


Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ

Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT  for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position


I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your *******'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ******* winning

WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave


The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through  time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise

Your in the way of the wave, child
This.....  the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Written for and dedicated to my mother.. we've always been at odds. This entire scenario I wrote is hypothetical, but for some reason it comforts me to make up pep talks from her and this is my favorite one Ive come up with so far. So wherever you are mom...thank you for everything..this one is just for you.
Mom, can you hear me?
Its 5:00 p.m and I came for dinner, it's no test.
Please pace yourself tonight
You've had 3 drinks already, tonight please for me, give it a rest.

Mom, I need to tell you about my day
Okay this is drink number 4, and dinner is served.
Mom I got a promotion at work today
I can't believe it!
"Honey can you pass the wine please?" She says to dad
Conversation swerved

Mom how have you been doing?
She tells me the same story she told me yesterday when I asked.
Dinner is cleared, time for dessert.
Of course, dessert is just another glass.

Mom you look beautiful tonight,
Oh wait your make up is all smudged up.
"Please fix it for me baby".
Shes too shaky, but not for another cup.

Mom I miss our girls days
Getting our nails done and going for lunch
"I would love to grab some mimosas tomorrow,
How about we go for brunch?"

Mom I'm too sleepy for brunch, how about we go to dinner?
The restaurant down the road is brand new
I hear it's a winner

Mom why dont you want to try it?
"I can't go to dinner without my wine"
We picked a new restaurant
All was far from fine.

Mom please dont yell at the waitress
"HEY OVER HERE WE NEED SOME ICE!!"
I knew this was a bad idea.
When shes drinking she isnt always nice.

Mom that was super rude.
You cant speak to people that way.
If you were sober it never would have happened.
You're more careful with what you say.

Mom please don't be mad at me,
I was only trying to help
"All you ever so is pick on me," she cries
"I need to leave here, I'm out."

Mom it's you whose breaking me
And I cant keep watching you fall
You have proven alcohol is more important.
I guess I dont matter after all.
Caroline Jun 2017
“The eagles should have been far seeing”
Was the last apocalyptic note she wrote
In her broken and trembling hand
Words that I tried so hard to understand.

What eagles? What sight could they have beheld
That might have brought back to her
A reasoned light to illustrate
Something other than her tortured mind
Worn fragile and thin by monsters,
Who starved, and beat, and *****,
A child.

Or would these brave and noble birds
Have donned armor in her defense
Flocking in hordes to peck out the eyes
Of those so vile that they would welcome,
Just to destroy,
The spirit of a foster child.  

Or did these eagles nest inside her ****,
As like a sweet salvation,
My spirit bloomed
For them to lift on soaring, golden wings,
And place gently in her arms,
A child more precious than the moon,
And all its diamond light,
Since in my tiny form she found the strength
To chase away the memories;
To hold back a schizophrenic night.

So, it was these birds who were short of sight,
Who gave a gift and flew away.
Abandoned in her time of need,
Her mind crumbling from the weight
Of something from which she was never, truly free,
And though we tried so hard to save her,
No one was strong enough;
Not even me.
Eight years ago, I lost my mom to suicide. After a long battle with a form of late-onset schizophrenia, and also, the effects of a terrible childhood, I feel like she just couldn't fight anymore. The last note she wrote to me didn't make much sense on the surface, but I find deeper meaning in it. She loved me more than all the stars in the sky and I miss her just as much.
Fiona Oct 2017
I'm sorry Mom, for the times I complained,
And for all the unnecessary tears,
I'm sorry Mom, for all the times I yelled,
And for all those wasted years.
I'm sorry Mom, for my stubborn behavior,
And for the times I ran away,
From all of the problems, I didn't feel like facing
Forgive me, Mom, for I was lead astray.
I'm sorry Mom, please show me the door,
I think it's time I leave.
I need to find my own way of life,
and stop destroying yours.
Day May 2016
Mothers day, to me
is just, another memory,
gone to waste.*

A day to stop and pause
and remember a lost cause,
only to move on, again.

Because to me, mothers day
is "my mother left me" day,
so, not a joyous occasion.

And try as I may, to hear
the words, "but another is near"
it's just not the same.

Because while I found another home,
my heart still tends to roam,
to other places.

And my thoughts just can't forget
about the life that I didn't get,
no matter how bleak.

But still I try to push past,
and make the smile last,
even if it's fake.

Because I know that someone loves me,
even if she did not birth me,
and now I call Her  *Mom.
Mother's day isn't happy for everyone. It's hard remembering that I have another mom out there that gave me up but as any good poet I try to convey this frustration to all of you. Thank you all so much for the support. Love you guys! Smile.
Shang Dec 2013
my sister thought my mother
had died on her lap;
she walked to the bathroom
inside that depthless hospital hotel.

the putrid smell of life and death
all through-out this concrete heaven
and ****.

at the age of fifty-four
my mother's bones would
carry no more weight.

her gentle heart
her forgiving mind
her words so strong

but mine,
they are forced out
by constricted wind-pipes
and angry words

i glanced down at the cot, where my mother died
as I made contact with my mother's pale-blue eyes
she looked at me with the most helpless,
childish face I've ever seen.
as if to say:
"he isn't here.. where is he...
where could he be?"


she lived thirty more minutes.

he arrived a few hours later, asking:
"how's she doin'?"

never take for granted,
someone's borrowed time.
(C) Shang
Nazreen Nawi Feb 2016
Dear Mom,
You are awake when everyone are sleeping.
You are working when everyone are having a break.
And yet you are standing there with the brightest smile
Without the slightest hint of tiredness
I look up to you,
I adore you,
I love you.
Dear Mom,
Can i be like you?
So strong in body and will,
So caring for others,
So dependable to your family
Dear Mom,
Once again i tell you,
I love you.
Why can't any of you
Seem to understand
How heart wrenching it is to see my mother
with another drink in her hand

She picks up that bottle
night after night,
And drinks until her thoughts
are completely out of sight.

Mom cant you see,
that My heart breaks
Everytime I have to watch you finish your drink
And I notice your hands start to shake

You lift your final glass,
up to your lips
And I help you up the stairs,
please mom, please
this time just dont slip

You use to be my best friend
No matter what time of day
Now if it's after 8pm
Your memory has already been taken away

Our conversations have turned into arguments
As you can't see that when you drink you have a different side.
I try to brush most things off
but it's not fair to me, that my feelings are always denied.

The next morning you are sober,
most times with your slate wiped clean
It is me who is left with confusion and anger,
but all of them just call me mean.

Is it really mean,
that I hate seeing you act this way?
I dont enjoy watching you repeat the same mistakes,
again and again.

They contine to defend you,
You feel enabled, they make you feel better.
Here I am, trying to open your eyes
I wanna help you get it back together.

Mom, you have been taken over by *****'s warm darkness,
you run to your liquid fire to find light.
I watch you drown further into it's black whole,
that will never make things right.

I want my mommy back,
I really need you here.
I cant see you fall down one more time,
I cant see you shed another suppressed tear.

Alcohol stole you from me mom,
But knowing your heartbreak broke my own heart.
I want my ******* mommy back
Its tearing our family apart.
It's wonderful knowing
someone is there-
someone to talk to-
someone who always
knows just what to do.
It's always been wonderful
knowing there's you!

It's wonderful having
someone who gives
something worth while
to each day she lives.
Someone who's thoughtfulness
always shows through.
It's always been
wonderful,
Mom,
having you!

I love you Mama!
(Mother's Day poem)

2001

COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~


My mother lied to me today
When I found out I had to say
Oh Mother why’d you tell a lie
and from me this thing try to hide?
With a coy smile she looked at me
and spoke in a voice so softly
My dearest son it is my job
to keep you safe, away from harm
At times that may in fact include
in order to hide or seclude
the things in life you should not see
because you’re simply not ready

You may discover on your own
Much later in life when you're grown
But when you're underneath my wing
Your one concern is just to sing
Life’s worries I will take for you
The stress and hurt I will shield too
Life asks a lot and has its pains
and slowly these things you’ll be trained
But in due time; Have patience son
Life's not a race, no need to run
So take your time; stop and enjoy
One day you will not be a boy

Out in the world; learn on your own
Keep with you all the things I've shown
And piece by piece on each you'll build
For you I wish a life fulfilled
There is still much you need to learn
I shield from you all the concerns
It's somewhat understandable
You might be slightly gullible
Because you're simply not aware
So many things from you I've spared
Allowed you distance as you grew
But always kept an eye on you

I gave you room to let you fly
To stretch your wings; explore the sky
And you may not have seen me there
but I did not just disappear
No matter the heights you could reach
I always had more I could teach
So even though at times it seemed
Untethered and were not a team
Could not be further from the truth
Clark Kent changing in a phone booth
When needed became Superman
If duty called I lent a hand

Free range to fly all on your own
Solve problems with the skills I've shown
A carpenter; I gave the tools
But up to you how you would use
My hope that given in due time
the skills you had would exceed mine
And there you'd fly so high above
As I look up; heart filled with love
Amazing heights I know you'll reach
This life we live is up to each
of us deciding what to do
And I'll always believe in you

And just remember as you fly
Wherever you go or how high;
Into the world I've sent you off
to learn life's lessons as their taught
So when you look you might not see
Think I have gone; Can not find me
But whether up or down below
I just want you to always know
You are my son and I love you
No limit to what you can do
The distance might be further now
But since your birth I kept this vow
That you would be under my wing
To keep you safe and watch you sing

Obviously I meant to have this ready
and present it yesterday but it
just didn't work out that way.
=)

Written: May 10, 2018

All rights reserved.
LexiSully May 2016
This mother of mine is a brilliant ray of light,
Who illuminates even the darkest night,
Who brightens every lonely face,
With a silent, sincere, and sweet embrace

This mother of mine can take the heat,
When she's faced with a problem, she doesn't skip a beat,
We may talk back and make a fuss,
But she still shows her love towards us

This mother of mine admires the trees that grow tall,
She likes how they waver, but never fall,
They wave back and forth and emanate peace,
And show her that God's love for us will never cease

This mother of mine is the strongest woman of all,
For my life without her would surely crumble and fall,
She has taught me how to pick myself off the ground,
I am truly grateful to have my mother around.
Thank you for being my best friend Mom
JayceeJellies Dec 2014
Would you shut up for five seconds?
I wish I could say this to your face,
But you'd demolish my feelings.
Lecture me about my age.

I don't have to grow up yet.
Better yet, I refuse to.
Age is just a number to me.
I ignore your opinions, I have my own views.
Gingers' Ginger Jul 2013
Once when I was younger
I had a broken heart
I couldn't find all the pieces
I didn't know where to start
The rain started pouring
Just in time to hide my tears
I was crying for you Daddy,
Wishing you were here
To show me Real daddy's Love
And how it's supposed to feel
To be a "Daddys Little Princess"
And how to tell when the love is real
I looked for you everywhere
Sometimes
all day and night
I'd even think I'd found you
But it was never you or right
I prayed you'd hear my calling,
We would reunite at last
Well eventually I found you Dad,
But our time had already passed
Still I kept on searching
There might be someone else
Who'd share a part of you with me and offer me some help
As the years went by I collected pieces along the way
I still I felt a little empty
But I still hoped and prayed
One day a prayer was answered Dad
Much to my surprise
Aunt Mel and cousin Donna
Had found my desperate pleas online
Through them I've got to know you
Thank God they found me too
I get to see another side of me
And a part of me that's you
My heart is on it's way now Dad
And all I can say
is that you've got my Mom in Heaven now too - so wishing you Happiest of Birthdays today
❤️
a poem for my dad I never got to meet edited for his birthday 4/23 -
emeraldine087 Apr 2018
Kung maaari lamang sana kita'ng
   makita at makausap,
Yayakapin kita nang mahigpit at
   magpapasalamat---
Salamat sa sakripisyo,
   sa pagmamahal,
para sa iyo'ng pasensya at
   paalala'ng walang pagal.

Alam ko'ng sandali lamang
   tayo'ng nagkasama,
ngunit hanggang ngayon ang iyong
   pagiging ina'y akin pa ri'ng dama.

Marami pa sanang gusto'ng
   sabihin at iparamdam sa'yo;
Nasaan ka man, sana'y iyo
   pa ri'ng natatanto:

Kung ano ma'ng mayroon ako,
   ano ako at nasaan ako,
Aking Anghel, ay dahil at para sa'yo.

*(c) emeraldine087
For my beloved Mama. Love you always and forever.
Carmen Jane Mar 1
You can hold only the tips of my fingers
As my thumb brushes your entire hand
This silky touch, at once, our hearts triggers,
Etches my mind , becomes my soul's brand
Deb Jones Oct 2017
You would think that new pain takes precedent over old pain

But the truth is that when new pain follows old pain, the weight of the whole tends to be a lot heavier than any individual wound.

A whole lifetime of accumulated pain.

If we have no coping mechanisms we just bear the weight.

The ever heavier weight.

Because let's be realistic, life is full of pain. And there is no one to turn to that doesn't have their own pain.

We can't say "Hey, do you mind holding this for a few hours? Or for a day? I'll pay you for babysitting it."

The truth is we don't want to give up the pain, to give it up means that we give up the immeasurable love we carry for the people we are mourning.

To give it up means that we never loved them enough. And we did. We do.

We love them so much we are willing to carry the pain for the rest of our lives. That is part of their legacy to us. The love, the memories.

After a while the pain is not so heart clenchingly hurtful.

We start to remember the laughter, the happy times. The loving times.

And we take those memories out and examine them. Smile and feel the lightness in our very soul.

We put the memories back and the heavy hurt doesn't seem so dark.

One of my my favorite quotes is  by Lewis Carroll
"I try to believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast"

That always seemed like a good attitude to me.

The way the world is these days, it’s almost incomprehensible how anyone could have a closed mind.

It seems like most every day there’s a story in the news about one of our certainties being turned on its ear.

Maybe that’s what it means to be human, forever questioning our certainties.

One of my certainties is I will someday smile and outright laugh at the memory of my mom.

She was a funny, outrageous woman that made me laugh daily.

One day she said something so shockingly funny I threw myself across her bed laughing and banged my head on her wall.

Even that made me laugh harder.

She was a treat to talk to. A great artist, pianist and writer.

When my niece Ashley died, her granddaughter, I came home and went straight to her room.

We didn't say a word. I cried with my head on her lap for more than 2 hours. While she made soothing noises and cried with me.

The night she died I looked into her eyes for hours. The fear. The panic. I talked her home through it all.

I smiled while I cried and I made sure she knew she was safe. She was going home to be with loved ones.

I asked my siblings to come around to my side of the bed so she could see them and they couldn't. They just couldn't.

So I talked her home alone while they listened and cried.

I made sure every time she focused on my face I had a smile for her.

I told her to go. I reassured her and at the end gave her massive doses of medicine so she wouldn't hurt.

And I smiled until my cheeks hurt. While I kept talking her home.

I didn't want strangers touching her so out of 7 sisters only my youngest helped me bath and dress her in her favorite clothes.

I washed her waist long hair myself and did it in the long side braid she favored. I put the light makeup she liked on her face. She looked beautiful.

She was wonderful. She was my anchor, my soulmate, my best friend. She was my mother.
I can't believe she is not upstairs in her room waiting for me right now. I will miss her everyday for the rest of my life.
This was written at the same time I wrote the poem "Dying" my 22 year old niece died just a handful of months before my mom did. Last April. I am still working my way through the grieving process. Writing about it makes me feel better. I can pour the pain into my words
InLove000 Feb 2016
Loneliness , sadness and tears
things that cannot be explained
are deep inside my heart
since the day you left
I still can't believe
I cannot imagine that I will never be able
to talk or see you again
rest in peace
lost Jun 2018
Dear Mom,
As I write this letter to you, I hope you realize how much you have hurt me. And that all you are doing is making things worse. I can't seem to say these words you face to face nor will you let me.
I'm sorry that I'm not the perfect 5 year old again. I'm 17 I make mistakes. I don't know what the **** I'm doing most of the time, but I will never admit to your face. But that shouldn't be your reason for your actions.
I don't want anything to do with you anymore. You have made life more of a **** these past few years then you probably ever will. But the drama needed to stop. But you didn't seem to realize this. I hope this isn't breaking your heart but you already broke mine. As I sit here I'm not crying, and I hope you aren't either. But honestly, everything I'm saying I have tried to tell you before. But you don't listen. I hope this letter would suffice for you, because you aren't getting anything more from me. I am done with you. I am done with everything you so call "have to offer". I tried having a relationship with you, you see how well that worked. You haven't seemed to show me you deserve another chance. I have always resented you for moving away from me. Always have and probably always will. But that isn't the only reason. As a mother your duties are to take care of me. I am your child. I come first before anyone and everyone, including yourself. This might be harsh but its the real world. Time for both of us to live in reality.  This is something you struggled with, this and making my life a living ****. But that isn't just it, you seemed to use me as a **** or a spy for my dad, which i never seemed to understand why.  You just ditching me to go hangout with your friends isn't okay either. You will always be my Birth Giver, but you really didn't deserve the title Mom. I can't keep going down this road that I have been going down. It really has been enough. I'm done shedding tears for you, done stressing, and done sacrificing my life. Maybe in the future when I don't need to be dependent on you. But right now I don't need you in my life. You are basically destroying everything I have tried to build and re-build in the past four years. Many of my friend relationships have been destroyed because I took all my emotions to them at the age of 12. What normal kids has these emotions? I bottled them up and expressed them at the worst times possible. That is what happens when your the kid of ill mother who strains every part of you. I'm sorry if this isn't something you wanted to hear. But this is what I need say. I wish you the best in life and all your health issues. I will always love you, but right now this is the best thing I can offer.
this is something that has been hard for me to stay. i put it on here because my mom will never see this. I hope one day I can send her this but I don't know.
Victor D López Dec 2018
Victor D. López (October 11, 2018)

You were born five years before the beginning of the Spanish civil war and
Lived in a modest two-story home in the lower street of Fontan, facing the ocean that
Gifted you its wealth and beauty but also robbed you of your beloved and noblest eldest
Brother, Juan, who was killed while working as a fisherman out to sea at the tender age of 19.

You were a little girl much prone to crying. The neighbors would make you cry just by saying,
"Chora, neniña, chora" [Cry little girl, cry] which instantly produced inconsolable wailing.
At the age of seven or eight you were blinded by an eye Infection. The village doctor
Saved your eyesight, but not before you missed a full year of school.

You never recovered from that lost time. Your impatience and the shame of feeling left behind prevented
You from making up for lost time. Your wounded pride, the shame of not knowing what your friends knew,
Your restlessness and your inability to hold your tongue when you were corrected by your teacher created
A perfect storm that inevitably tossed your diminutive boat towards the rocks.

When still a girl, you saw Franco with his escort leave his yacht in Fontan. With the innocence of a girl
Who would never learn to hold her tongue, you asked a neighbor who was also present, "Who is that Man?"
"The Generalissimo Francisco Franco," she answered and whispered “Say ‘Viva Franco’ when he Passes by.”
With the innocence of a little girl and the arrogance of an incorrigible old soul you screamed, pointing:

"That's the Generalissimo?" followed up loud laughter, "He looks like Tom Thumb!"
A member of his protective detail approached you, raising his machine gun with the apparent intention of
Hitting you with the stock. "Leave her alone!" Franco ordered. "She is just a child — the fault is not hers."
You told that story many times in my presence, always with a smile or laughing out loud.

I don't believe you ever appreciated the possible import of that "feat" of contempt for
Authority. Could that act of derision have played some small part in their later
Coming for your father and taking him prisoner, torturing him for months and eventually
Condemning him to be executed by firing squad in the Plaza de Maria Pita?

He escaped his fate with the help of a fascist officer who freed him as I’ve noted earlier.
Such was his reputation, the power of his ideas and the esteem even of friends who did not share his views.
Such was your innocence or your psychic blind spot that you never realized your possible contribution to
His destruction. Thank God you never connected the possible impact of your words on his downfall.

You adored your dad throughout your life with a passion of which he was most deserving.
He died shortly after the end of the Spanish Civil War. A mother with ten mouths to feed
Needed help. You stepped up in response to her silent, urgent need. At the age of
Eleven you left school for the last time and began working full time.

Children could not legally work in Franco’s Spain. Nevertheless, a cousin who owned a cannery
Took pity on your situation and allowed you to work full-time in his fish cannery factory in Sada.
You earned the same salary as the adult, predominantly women workers and worked better
Than most of them with a dexterity and rapidity that served you well your entire life.

In your free time before work you carried water from the communal fountain to neighbors for a few cents.
You also made trips carrying water on your head for home and with a pail in each hand. This continued after
You began work in Cheche’s cannery. You rose long before sunrise to get the water for
Home and for the local fishermen before they left on their daily fishing trips for their personal water pails.

All of the money you earned went to your mom with great pride that a girl could provide more than the salary of a
Grown woman--at the mere cost of her childhood and education. You also washed clothes for some
Neighbors for a few cents more, with diapers for newborns always free just for the pleasure of being
Allowed to see, hold spend some time with the babies you so dearly loved you whole life through.
When you were old enough to go to the Sunday cinema and dances, you continued the
Same routine and added washing and ironed the Sunday clothes for the young fishermen
Who wanted to look their best for the weekly dances. The money from that third job was your own
To pay for weekly hairdos, the cinema and dance hall entry fee. The rest still went to your mom.

At 16 you wanted to go to emigrate to Buenos Aires to live with an aunt.
Your mom agreed to let you--provided you took your younger sister, Remedios, with you.
You reluctantly agreed. You found you also could not legally work in Buenos Aires as a minor.
So you convincingly lied about your age and got a job as a nurse’s aide at a clinic soon after your arrival.

You washed bedpans, made beds, scrubbed floors and did other similar assigned tasks
To earn enough money to pay the passage for your mom and two youngest brothers,
Sito (José) and Paco (Francisco). Later you got a job as a maid at a hotel in the resort town of
Mar del Plata whose owners loved your passion for taking care of their infant children.

You served as a maid and unpaid babysitter. Between your modest salary and
Tips as a maid you soon earned the rest of the funds needed for your mom’s and brothers’
Passage from Spain. You returned to Buenos Aires and found two rooms you could afford in an
Excellent neighborhood at an old boarding house near the Spanish Consulate in the center of the city.

Afterwards you got a job at a Ponds laboratory as a machine operator of packaging
Machines for Ponds’ beauty products. You made good money and helped to support your
Mom and brothers  while she continued working as hard as she always had in Spain,
No longer selling fish but cleaning a funeral home and washing clothing by hand.

When your brothers were old enough to work, they joined you in supporting your
Mom and getting her to retire from working outside the home.
You lived with your mom in the same home until you married dad years later,
And never lost the bad habit of stubbornly speaking your mind no matter the cost.

Your union tried to force you to register as a Peronista. Once burned twice cautious,
You refused, telling the syndicate you had not escaped one dictator to ally yourself with
Another. They threatened to fire you. When you would not yield, they threatened to
Repatriate you, your mom and brothers back to Spain.

I can’t print your reply here. They finally brought you to the general manager’s office
Demanding he fire you. You demanded a valid reason for their request.
The manager—doubtless at his own peril—refused, saying he had no better worker
Than you and that the union had no cause to demand your dismissal.

After several years of courtship, you and dad married. You had the world well in hand with
Well-paying jobs and strong savings that would allow you to live a very comfortable life.
You seemed incapable of having the children you so longed for. Three years of painful
Treatments allowed you to give me life and we lived three more years in a beautiful apartment.

I have memories from a very tender age and remember that apartment very well. But things changed
When you decided to go into businesses that soon became unsustainable in the runaway inflation and
Economic chaos of the Argentina of the early 1960’s. I remember only too well your extreme sacrifice
And dad’s during that time—A theme for another day, but not for today.

You were the hardest working person I’ve ever known. You were not afraid of any honest
Job no matter how challenging and your restlessness and competitive spirit always made you a
Stellar employee everywhere you worked no matter how hard or challenging the job.
Even at home you could not stand still unless there was someone with whom to chat awhile.

You were a truly great cook thanks in part to learning from the chef of the hotel where you had
Worked in Mar del Plata awhile—a fellow Spaniard of Basque descent who taught you many of his favorite
Dishes—Spanish and Italian specialties. You were always a terribly picky eater. But you
Loved to cook for family and friends—the more the merrier—and for special holidays.

Dad was also a terrific cook, but with a more limited repertoire. I learned to cook
With great joy from both of you at a young age. And, though neither my culinary skills nor
Any aspect of my life can match you or dad, I too am a decent cook and
Love to cook, especially for meals shared with loved ones.

You took great pleasure in introducing my friends to some of your favorite dishes such as
Cazuela de mariscos, paella marinera, caldo Gallego, stews, roasts, and your incomparable
Canelones, ñoquis, orejas, crepes, muñuelos, flan, and the rest of your long culinary repertoire.
In primary and middle school dad picked me up every day for lunch before going to work.

You and he worked the second shift and did not leave for work until around 2:00 p.m.
Many days, dad would bring a carload of classmates with me for lunch.
I remember as if it were yesterday the faces of my Jewish, Chinese, Japanese, German, Irish
And Italian friends when first introduced to octopus, Spanish tortilla, caldo Gallego, and flan.

The same was true during college and law school.  At times our home resembled an
U.N. General Assembly meeting—but always featuring food. You always treated my
Closest friends as if they were your children and a number of them to this day love
You as a second mother though they have not seen you for many years.

You had tremendous passion and affinity for being a mother (a great pity to have just one child).
It made you over-protective. You bought my clothes at an exclusive boutique. I became a
Living doll for someone denied such toys as a young girl. You would not let me out of your sight and
Kept me in a germ-free environment that eventually produced some negative health issues.

My pediatrician told you often “I want to see him with ***** finger nails and scraped knees.”
You dismissed the statement as a joke. You’d take me often to the park and to my
Favorite merry-go-round. But I had not one friend until I was seven or eight and then just one.
I did not have a real circle of friends until I was about 13 years old. Sad.

I was walking and talking up a storm in complete sentences when I was one year old.
You were concerned and took me to my pediatrician who laughed. He showed me a
Keychain and asked, “What is this Danny.” “Those are your car keys” I replied. After a longer
Evaluation he told my mom it was important to encourage and feed my curiosity.

According to you, I was unbearable (some things never change). I asked dad endless questions such as,
“Why is the sun hot? How far are the stars and what are they made of? Why
Can’t I see the reflection of a flashlight pointed at the sky at night? Why don’t airplanes
Have pontoons on top of the wheels so they can land on both water and land? Etc., etc., etc.

He would answer me patiently to the best of his ability and wait for the inevitable follow-ups.
I remember train and bus rides when very young sitting on his lap asking him a thousand Questions.
Unfortunately, when I asked you a question you could not answer, you more often than not made up an answer Rather than simply saying “I don’t know,” or “go ask dad” or even “go to **** you little monster!”

I drove you crazy. Whatever you were doing I wanted to learn to do, whether it was working on the
Sewing machine, knitting, cooking, ironing, or anything else that looked remotely interesting.
I can’t imagine your frustration. Yet you always found only joy in your little boy at all ages.
Such was your enormous love which surrounded me every day of my life and still does.

When you told me a story and I did not like the ending, such as with “Little Red Riding Hood,”
I demanded a better one and would cry interminably if I did not get it. Poor mom. What patience!
Reading or making up a story that little Danny did not approve of could be dangerous.
I remember one day in a movie theater watching the cartoons I loved (and still love).

Donald Duck came out from stage right eating a sandwich. Sitting between you and dad I asked you
For a sandwich. Rather than explaining that the sandwich was not real, that we’d go to dinner after the show
To eat my favorite steak sandwich (as usual), you simply told me that Donald Duck would soon bring me the sandwich. But when the scene changed, Donald Duck came back smacking his lips without the sandwich.

Then all **** broke loose. I wailed at the top of my lungs that Donald Duck had eaten my sandwich.
He had lied to me and not given me the promised sandwich. That was unbearable. There was
No way to console me or make me understand—too late—that Donald Duck was also hungry,
That it was his sandwich, not mine, or that what was on the screen was just a cartoon and not real.

He, Donald Duck, mi favorite Disney character (then and now) hade eaten this little boy’s Sandwich. Such a Betrayal by a loved one was inconceivable and unbearable. You and dad had to drag me out of the theater ranting And crying at the injustice at top volume. The tantrum (extremely rare for me then, less so now) went on for awhile, but all was well again when my beloved Aunt Nieves gave me a ******* with jam and told me Donald had sent it.

So much water under the bridge. Your own memories, like smoke in a soft breeze, have dissipated
Into insubstantial molecules like so many stars in the night sky that paint no coherent picture.
An entire life of vital conversations turned to the whispers of children in a violent tropical storm,
Insubstantial, imperceptible fragments—just a dream that interrupts an eternal nightmare.

That is your life today. Your memory was always prodigious. You knew the name of every person
You ever met, and those of their family members. You could recall entire conversations word for word.
Three years of schooling proved more than sufficient for you to go out into the world, carving your own
Path from the Inhospitable wilderness and learning to read and write at the age of 16.

You would have been a far better lawyer than I and a fiery litigator who would have fought injustice
Wherever you found it and always defended the rights of those who cannot defend themselves,
Especially children who were always your most fervent passion. You sacrificed everything for others,
Always put yourself dead-last, and never asked for anything in return.

You were an excellent dancer and could sing like an angel. Song was your release in times of joy and
In times of pain. You did not drink or smoke or over-indulge in anything. For much of your life your only minor Indulgence was a weekly trip to the beauty parlor—even in Spain where your washing and ironing income
Paid for that. You were never vain in any way, but your self-respect required you to try to look your best.

You loved people and unlike dad who was for the most part shy, you were quite happy in the all-to-infrequent
Role as the life of the party—singing, dressing up as Charlie Chaplin or a newborn for New Year’s Eve parties with Family and close friends. A natural story-teller until dementia robbed you of the ability to articulate your thoughts,
You’d entertain anyone who would listen with anecdotes, stories, jokes and lively conversation.

In short: you were an exceptional person with a large spirit, a mischievous streak, and an enormous heart.
I know I am not objective about you, but any of your surviving friends and family members who knew you
Well will attest to this and more in a nanosecond. You had an incredibly positive, indomitable attitude
That led you to rush in where angels fear to treat not out of foolishness but out of supreme confidence.

Life handed you cartloads of lemons—enough to pickle the most ardent optimist. And you made not just
Lemonade but lemon merengue pie, lemon sorbet, lemon drops, then ground up the rind for sweetest
Rice pudding, flan, fried dough and a dozen other delicacies. And when all the lemons were gone, you sowed the Seeds from which extraordinarily beautiful lemon trees grew with fruit sweeter than grapes, plums, or cherries.

I’ve always said with great pride that you were a far better writer than I. How many excellent novels,
Plays, and poems could you have written with half of my education and three times my workload?
There is no justice in this world. Why does God give bread to those without teeth? Your
Prodigious memory no longer allows you to recognize me. I was the last person you forgot.

But even now when you cannot have a conversation in any language, Sometimes your eyes sparkle, and
You call me “neniño” (my little boy in Galician) and I know that for an instant you are no longer alone.
But too son the light fades and the darkness returns. I can only see you a few hours one day a week.
My life circumstances do not leave me another option. The visits are bitter sweet but I’m grateful for them.

Someday I won’t even have that opportunity to spend a few hours with you. You’ll have no
Monument to mark your passing save in my memory so long as reason remains. An entire
Life of incalculable sacrifice will leave behind only the poorest living legacy of love
In your son who lacks appropriate words to adequately honor your memory, and always will.


*          *          *

The day has come, too son. October 11, 2018. The call came at 3:30 am.
An hour or two after I had fallen asleep. They tried CPR in vain. There will be no more
Opportunities to say, “I Love you,” to caress your hands and face, to softly sing in your ear,
To put cream on your hands, or to hope that this week you might remember me.

No more time to tell you the accomplishments of loved ones, who I saw, what they told me,
Who asked about you this week, or to pray with you, or to ask if you would give me a kiss by putting my
Cheek close to your lips, to feel joy when you graced me with many little kisses in response,
Or tell you “Maybe next time” when as more often than not the case for months you did not respond.

In saying good bye I’d give you the kiss and hug Alice always sent you,
Followed by three more kisses on the forehead from dad (he always gave you three) and one from me.
I’d leave the TV on to a channel with people and no sound and when possible
Wait for you to close your eyes before leaving.

Time has run out. No further extensions are possible. My prayers change from asking God to protect
You and by His Grace allow you to heal a little bit each day to praying that God protect your
Soul and dad’s and that He allow you to rest in peace in His kingdom. I miss you and Dad very much
And will do so as long as God grants me the gift of reason. I never knew what it is to be alone. I do now.

Four years seeing your blinding light reduced to a weak flickering candle in total darkness.
Four years fearing that you might be aware of your situation.
Four years praying that you would not feel pain, sadness or loneliness.
Four years learning to say goodbye. The rest of my life now waiting in the hope of seeing you again.

I love you mom, with all my heart, always and forever.
Written originally in Spanish and translated into English with minor additions on my mom's passing (October 2018).
Mom
Who cares for you Mom, when you
cry alone?
You give and you give
so much
to your children
and to all who are fortunate enough
to cross your path

But what about you, Mom?
Who holds your hand when your shoulders shake
from the strain
of getting up
and moving on
even when all you want to do is curl up
and have one more minute
before facing the day

Its okay Mom, sit down for a bit
take that breath you needed
you don't have to be strong all the time
why should you, when your in
the deep end
flailing for peace
clawing for acceptance
and fighting to find the meaning
behind
every
blow
that's dealt

Your dreams, something to cherish in
quiet moments
have been shoved to the bottom of your
starving soul
for so long
you cannot hear their screams anymore

What I would give to heal your wounds
and take away the heartbreak
for you deserve to sing until
like a balm
it soothes away internal festering

"Chin up," they say, "You are brave."
Well I say, "Head down, dear one."
"There is bravery in the strength it takes
to show that you are hurting."

So Mom, when you are struggling
to deal with a unending sea
of pain
close your eyes
breath in
and out
wade into the dark waters
and let
the healing
begin.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
To Mom. Who is the strongest woman I know. Who has faced death, and pain and loss. Yet she is still standing. To all the brave mothers out there.
You are seen.
You are appreciated.
And you are loved.
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