Still Your Mother
No one saw me holding you yesterday or heard you call my name.
No one saw six children with me or recognized my pain.
No one felt the emotions rising or the sorrow deep within.
No one, except maybe your Daddy, could see past my fake grin.
No one spoke your name to me, except your siblings at home.
No one said, “I’m sorry she’s not here for Mother’s Day. You must feel so alone.”
No one knew how deeply I ached, despite having five other children to love.
No one saw the tears I shed for you, because you are not here, but are above.
No one saw me visit your grave and bring you pink and white flowers.
No one knows that I spent Mother’s Day, begging for it to end, and counting down the hours.
No one gift could ever make this harsh reality better.
Because there was no reason to celebrate yesterday. You are gone forever.
And the children I mother, on this side of heaven, seem to get short changed by my parenting.
Because every holiday, birthday, and anniversary without you only increases my suffering.
I don’t mean to be ungrateful for the children I do have to hold...your sisters and your brothers.
But losing you has broken me, and even though no one can see...I am still your mother.