I'm Sorry, But I Just Have To Say This...

Mom,

I never told you, but I thought you were amazing.
I never told you, because your amazingness was just expected - like sunrise after night.
And it was so quiet.

It was the silent beat that ran through everyday of my life.
The raucous noise of day-to-day drowned out what you gave.
In a million ways, in little ways, in everything you did.

You were the constant hum underneath the din of our family life.
You were the thrum of the steady drum that kept our wheels turning.
You were the cards and calls and words that a better person wouldn’t have taken for granted.

But I did.

I did, and you just went on like that was the way it was supposed to be.

You expected nothing, but gave everything.
Like a woman from another time.
But you were in my time.

I wish I had not assumed everything that you gave up so easily.

But I did.

I have to hope, that somehow you knew what you were.
What you are.

You have always been smarter than me.
So I’ll trust that you know.

I could live one hundred years and never be all of the things that you were.
I could live one hundred years and never get over you being gone.

I used to think I was good at poetry.

But I’m not.

Because when it counts,
I suck.
I choke.
I fail.

Because words, and rhyme, and even iambic pentameter can’t say about you what three little letters can:

MOM.

I’ll miss you forever.