Harriet Harris nee Kuritsky circa November 13th

Harriet Harris née Kuritsky circa November 13th, 1935 - ~ May 4th, 2005 (untimely death sentence ordained ~ early February 1935) I trot out a poem acknowledging birthday of dear ole mom, who succumbed, lost lease on life nearly two decades ago, who frequently asked me, but never received acknowledgement during her livingsocial years did abjure (as the sole son) communicating HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Test teasing prophylactics embarrassing purchase never made at local drugstore unsurprisingly, obviously, invariably... birth control taboo subject, best to ignore subsequently intercourse awkwardly coordinated, consummated, completed extempore courtesy the mythic sheet with a hole through which prudish maternal grandparents supposedly copulated hence bun in the oven bon jure yielded unicellular spore while in utero ~ early/mid February I ain't exactly sure nineteen hundred thirty five - dirt poor Harriet Harris, fourth, last born (interesting enough shared same birthdate with eldest sister twelve years her senior) fetched vicinity Coney Island offshore by stork, became favorite progeny begat courtesy Morris, and then swore celibacy forever more Rebeckah Kuritsky heretofore harbored inchoate genetic fore boded, encoded, inscribed deadly mutations housed, fetched, dispatched and bore flawed BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes sketched affecting circumscribing her allotted mortality orbitz equaling about six months shy of three and a half score unknowingly, unsuspectingly, unwittingly, her biologic fatal demise indelibly etched. Breast cancer first brush sounded death knell Harriet approximately clocked fifty plus orbitz around the sun, she underwent grueling radiation plus chemotherapy carcinoma eradicated allowed, enabled, provided breathing spell reprieve accentuated, galvanized, punctuated... newfound zealous zest almost nothing could quell significance pray tell new lease on life to sell lib berate cherish, relish, whish each precious moment thwarting pell mell adversity with bon vivant elan and gusto to issue rebel yell kickstarting, making breast livingsocial aye bell, especially after despite... er... well her double mastectomy, she looked fabulously swell courtesy silicon implants slight downside reconstituted racked busty bosom susceptible to ooze gel. Many years post remission telltale diagnosis, viz ovarian, despite requisite hysterectomy emotionally did impale, she instinctually, intuitively, invariably, yet quiver and quail against impending demise 24/7 did assail guardian angel(s) of no avail, nor did yours truly proffer nurturance resentment smoldering within this male red hot poker anger lambasting me peppered with ultimatums to vamoose, never got resolved ensuing estrangement deterred reaching out to embrace, hearing raspy fading breaths exhale, miserably tethered with tubes when she did severely pine ail and grievously bewail corporeal essence ashen pale awkwardly, helplessly, stupidly... I stood formidable grim reaper foe whisked mother to Elysian fielded dale.