A Difficult Sunday

One more chance to kiss that face,
To see the pride in her eyes,
To believe in myself, as much as she believed in me.
That’s all I ask — just one more chance.

My Ma has passed on to celebrate in the heavens above,
Leaving a gaping hole in my life and heart.
I seek warmth in her memory, but the solace is fleeting.

I also saw the sadness in the eyes of a grieving mother,
Making it through the day, thinking of her son, who is with God.
No solace, or comfort, or words can ever dull the pain that pierces her heart.

I cherish the fervor with which my children celebrate their mother,
Living vicariously, as they build their own memories, and I get  lost in mine.