Making Memories Without Mom

Create memories, your gentle request each time I left the house.

Each life event, you taught me, was another opportunity for never-forgotten experiences.

Yet, as I progress onward in life without

You,

I find myself left with nothing but our memories together that

get more difficult to recall with time

You,

the most influential person in my life

are but a collection of 15-second video clips in my mind

every day harder to rewind, constantly robbed of time

and a plethora of life lessons, many not fully realized until after

your death.

An adoring hug full of hairspray and perfume

A caring word of advice for an event to happen soon

A swift you'd better straighten up outside of a classroom

That time you wouldn't stop holding me when I felt such gloom

The soft smile and look of pride when I enter a room

Brief silhouettes, small representations of large realities.

Mere collections of 15-second video clips in my mind.

I've been robbed of so much time.

And it makes me wonder: if life is about

Creating memories, why are the memories so

short and fleeting?

Why can't we have greater control over them?

Why must I remember the day of

your death.

So vividly, in such perfect detail

but struggle to remember all the wonderful memories that are

You?

Everything good about me is because of

You

Yet I struggle to remember all the details of the good times with

You

I'm left with remembering a feeling that I had when

You

would comfort me, after I had done something ridiculous to

mess up my life. I don't even recall how you managed to get me back on track,

only that you always did -

And I value your lesson about making memories and

I truly attempt to live my life to the fullest, yet,

As I create beautiful memories marrying my wife and

raising my son, a memory floods my brain about how you

always wanted to be a grandma, and I would trade in all the

15-second videos stored in my mind to create these new memories with

You.

And today, this Mothers Day, the video clips have become more than symbolic

I sit with a literal outdated form of visual media

being played on an outdated form of technology, which came from an old

and dusty basement where it had been lost for so long, and I know for a fact

that a digitized version of your face and voice is somewhere to be found on this tape

if I could only get the damn thing to work correctly, and I weep and punch my bed,

exclaiming, we took these videos because they said we could capture a memory forever,

and the anger forces a realization:

no matter how well a tool is built, a memory made, a life lived,

everything is eventually lost or

Dead.

And if we are lucky enough to find that which is lost, it may not be

as we left it.

Is that a reason to give up on making memories?

I know your answer, mom:

Make so many that your consciousness overflows with them.

Some days your words lovingly haunt me, Create Memories.

Despite my resistance, life has gone on without you.

I miss you.

Your ashes sit on my fireplace. I continue.

Thank you so much for reading my heart in poetic form. Living without my mom has been a difficult journey, and I have written an article that accompanies this poem. Have you lost someone close to you? Don't be silent. I'd love to hear your thoughts. You'd be shocked at the therapeutic effect of sharing your thoughts with an electronic device, knowing there is a human reading them who can relate.