Finger Bowls and Heaven
"When Heaven gets overcrowded, place another setting at The Last Supper table," ... by the Poet.
She would have been quite physical
--athletically--
in her younger days.
With all due respect,
because of her candor and prowess,
she does exemplify motherliness,
a rather difficult picture to sway.
She sets her mind into motion,
accomplishing her goals by anticipating difficulties and dealing with them, succinctly.
That,
in my opinion,
was her most admired idiosyncrasy.
Cutting corners, or,
the quickest way to points A and B,
more so,
holding the last piece of the puzzle,
my meaning being;
that she had the answer to the question.
Wow,
all that and being our Mom,
and then there is this,
In years to the most recent;
she was a pastor of churches,
evangelist to tent revivals,
missionary to foreign missions,
and exorcist for denominational faiths.
The earlier years,
our mom was a Music Instructor/Educator of various musical instruments.
Her well-to-do children's choice was piano,
followed by guitar/ukelele,
a couple of them picked drums,
and one, harmonica; the point is that she was versatile.
Anything she touched, Midas was sure to be near.
Homelife was interesting;
Dad was sarcastically funny,
he'd say to mom in their tit-for-tat's,
"Well, you finished building the dog house? --Sounds like it!"
Dad chuckles at the end of his lines.
Their temperament is non-aggressive
but it accentuates.
Mom joins in the laughter,
so much so that it overwhelms their explanations to each other.
Mom and Dad,
sitting in the breakfast nook,
it's a finger-bowls night,
Mom arranges palm-sized bowls,
she holds up each as he fills them,
from the oven, stovetop, microwave, fridge, and later the freezer;
nothing goes amiss,
we ate earlier,
it's a little after midnight,
after all,
it's just Mom's birthday,
or was it their anniversary,
or was it a Christmas dinner,
Thanksgiving leftovers, perhaps,
Nah! It's Mother's Day.
When you get right down to it,
there is no reason for a late snack with the one you shared for a lifetime.
A few hours later that morning,
we lost Dad in his sleep.
Some years later, Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's,
and we lost Mom.
It's severe with the loss of your parents,
one physically, and one spiritually,
... it's like existence before The Creation,
seeing Mom, sleeping days, awake at nights.
Knowing Mom's fervent belief in the Afterlife,
some years later, I said to myself,
"I hope there are finger bowls in Heaven,
... now that Mom is there with Dad."
Copyright ©
Hilo Poet
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