Dear Mother

Father said I was two and a half to three. I'm not sure. A serious illness, he said, which no doctor could cure. Glance at your mom last time, dad seemed to have said, full of tears. I was in my childish unconsciousness. I had no fears. I did not cry. I didn't know the grim games of death, then. It's call of the unknown. Unknowingly, I said, Amen. A glimpse of your grave and coffin clings to my being still. Could snatching a mother from a child be the divine will? Though it's not very long, long enough, by you, I was fed. Embracing you, I slept angelically on your bed. You taught me the sign of the cross and thoughts of holiness. How much I miss your gestures of tender motherliness! I don't complain now. I rain my love on you like flowers. Seated in heaven, you shower on me divine powers. I feel you holding my hand and leading me as I walk. Each morning, as with God, with you, I never fail to talk.