Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem



Hi, Mom.
I hope you’re somewhere beautiful—
the way Dad always says you are.

I’m older now.
Not a baby anymore.
I wish I could remember your voice,
but I hear it
in his.

He still talks about you—
every night,
when he thinks I’m asleep.
He steps outside,
looks up at the sky,
and whispers.

Sometimes I hear him cry,
soft like the wind.
Sometimes I smile,
'cause I know you're listening.

He’s doing his best, Mom.
You’d be proud of him.
He burns toast,
forgets picture day,
can’t braid hair to save his life—
but he never misses a hug.
Not once.

He tells me stories about you,
and every one feels like a dream.
He says I have your eyes.
I see you in his.

He still sets a place for you
at the table on your birthday.
He still wears that ring—
and he still talks to your photo
like you're just away for a while.

He laughs sometimes, too.
When I dance like you used to.
When I say something smart
and stubborn.
He says,
"That's your mama."
And I see his heart break
and heal
in the same breath.

Sometimes I talk to you, too.
When it’s quiet.
When I miss you.
When I want to thank you
for giving me the best dad in the world.

He’s not perfect.
But he’s everything.

I think
he still carries you
in every step.
And I carry you both
in mine.

Love you always,
Mom.
Soft like the wind.
Forever like the stars.

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