Through my years of growing

I wish

I wish September 1 never came.

I wish Jesus did not call your name.

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

I wish you would’ve had a chance to wear the bathrobe you got for your birthday three ago.

But those days would be no more the ambulance could not save you like it’s has 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 seen me be a teen.

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

I wish you were 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 wished I would’ve learned from you how to be the mother you were to me

I wish for popcorn and movie nights, sleepovers and friendships sown

I wish for tantrums and hugs and kisses at the end

I wished you were a call away

To talk of the faith that got you through

I wish for your Bible, in the casket, it laid with the secrets inside 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 granddaughter grow her and everything in between

I wish that fateful day was not here to stay, but 56 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 hard ache didn’t take up so much space

I mis 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 grow

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 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 your life 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)