I wish.

I wish September 1 never came.

I wish Jesus did not call your name.

Through my years of growing, those wishes remained the same.

I wish you could have worn the bathrobe you got for your birthday three days before.

But those days would be no more; the ambulance could not save you as it had done before.

I wish my mind could erase the funeral home and cemetery, but it has been your resting place.

I wish you would have found happiness after marriage beyond repair.

I wish for weeds to pull and ice cream truck rewards.

I wish you would’ve watched the teen grow.

I wish you would tell me love stories and give me directions and advice for every boyfriend who arrived on the scene.

I wish you had been there to hear about my first kiss.

I wish you met my soulmate, Mike.

I wish for midnight snuggles and your love during my troubles.

I wish for your comfort on the other side door.

I wish you could have protected me from people so mean.

I wish I had learned from you how to be the mother you were to me.

I wish for popcorn and movie nights, sleepovers, and friendships sowed.

I wish for tantrums and hugs and kisses at the end.

I wish you were a call away to talk of the faith that got you through.

I wish for your Bible in the casket laid with the secrets displayed.

I wish for every special occasion you never got to see.

I wish for the times you would have been so proud of me.

I wish I hadn’t seen the things I saw.

I wish you would have seen your granddaughters grow here, there, and everything in between.

I wish that fateful day were not here to stay, but 57 more followed along the way.

Growing up motherless was the cause for other things I would miss.

My growth was stunted.

And I lost my identity too.

I wish my journals weren’t filled with grief and heartache and didn’t take up so much space.

I miss the Spanish rice and southern hominy I did not like.

I don’t remember your cooking, but shopping and walking home with your grocery cart put a smile on my face.

I wish for apple dumpling dinners – those were always winners.

I miss the things I didn’t know but would have loved and enjoyed as I grew.

I miss your loving and caring heart.

I miss caring for you when you were old, although it’s difficult, I’ve been told.

No more chapters written.

No more pages in life to turn.

No more memories to build.

No more inspiration to be instilled.

I miss, I miss. I reminisce about all the things that I have missed.

My wishes are selfish. I know, but they are my wishes just the same, from a life with plenty of rain

Somewhere along the way, I caught what you couldn’t say.

I watched you be strong when the difficult days came along.

I watched you be positive and not give in to defeat.

I didn’t know what I was watching then, but I have watched and learned.

I watched you live then your life was cut short.

I don’t remember your words or voice but your love in action.

Perfect, you were not but love, you knew how to do.

So here’s my wish list, mom, from me to you.

I know my wishes are so scattered and askew,

But there are so many good thoughts and memories I have of you

Before you left me when you were 42.

© Uniquely His

Nancy Seman

August 29, 2021 (Mom’s Birthday)