it can fool me but once

My mother, Janice Hilton Abbott, died on December 3, just four weeks before her 91st birthday.

I’ve been looking at photos, reading things she wrote, remembering.

Sunday morning, just four days ago, I sat next to the bed where she lay dying and wrote in my little notebook:

Mom sleeping. The sun slanting in through the blinds of the south window gives color to her forehead, cheeks, and hand. Mouth open, snoring just a bit. Just she and I and the slanting December sun. An hour of grace.

I had Alex Caldiero’s book Not Dreaming / Not Dreamed with me, a 1989/1990 work written while his mother was dying. I read it aloud to the woman who taught me to love works of literature because they teach us and deepen us as they surprise us. Thank you Alex. Love you Mom.

 

it can fool me but once

my grandmother used to say

death can fool me only once

then it’ll be my turn to laugh

……………….

The Rising of the Dead

When the body will be taken away,

then she will be missed.

The house will miss her first,

room by room.

Then the cat will begin

to look for her.

Then the mirror will

sense her absence.

Then the plants will

thirst the way children thirst for milk.

And they will wait —

They will all wait —

………………..

I was never so awake

as when I saw

my mother go

into her deepest sleep.

………………

Breathing

regular thru the

night   By late morning

sporadic

Close to noon

a faint gurgling    She

lifted herself

opened eyes wide

then closed them

tight,    & with a

quick grimace

let go

last breath

 

Peacefully

 

I opened the window

 

No one

outside

was any the wiser

 

Meaning

 

A part of us is

forever    the friend

we each are

to no other

……………….

Yes, Mom, a part of us is forever the friend we each are to no other.