Mothers Death

All earthly things left behind. All that is left for me is to grieve the emptiness of loss That no words can express. I sit with my mother on the edge of her bed, holding her hand And imagine her to wake. Waiting for a word, just one last word, But she remains still. I think that she knows even though I do not Nothing left for me , but to imagine. In her life was the strength of everything good. In her death her strength becomes the symbol to all those whom She touched. How can I remember, but by the picture in my mind and the symbols she has left behind, those symbols that described her life. A wife and partner, A mother great and grand. Kind, gracious, compassionate, great full and selfless. Always concerned for me and never for herself. I have hope to see her again.