Waiting Room

“I’m fine, leave me alone!”, my mom had told me.

Before she slapped at me–

She wasn’t fine;

She didn’t know

How to find her shoes

or where things would go;

She’d leave the microwave set for 20 minutes

while a popcorn bag

burst into flame

and then and there out went all the tenants

of the home into the street…it was a game.

I’d get a call that

she wouldn’t bathe,

she wouldn’t eat,

she wouldn’t behave

she’d not stay in her seat

that she’s wander around

trying to get out…and leave the grounds

And I’d go and I’d say “Mom you have to do,

what they need from you

so that you can get better…

But she would just put her fist

in my face and demand her car keys back;

I’d taken them away you see…

…and that was unforgiveable for her.

She’d start to slam the door

in my face

when I would come to see her;

She would blame me for putting her

in “This place”

and tell me I didn’t need her–

But I did, and badly…

I was fighting battles on my own

you see, battles she didn’t know,

I’d left my wife and the scars she’d made

to rebuild a life and grow

a new one;

It was only me–

I was the only child

and Dad had gone ahead;

he’d passed away

and left me to stay

and care for her in his stead.

I did my best to keep her safe,

I worked more jobs than I can name,

to pay for her to have the rest

and kind of care she’d claim

was a death sentence…

She got worse and worse,

until the day

they had to take her

someplace new,

a place locked down,

with others like her all around;

simply waiting for God to do

what He was waiting for…

To take them.

She lost her voice,

she lost her mind,

she lost who she had always been–

She didn’t know me for who I was

and did not see me as a friend…

but an enemy.

She laid there wasting

day after day, in her private bunker,

and I started keeping myself;

further and farther away

for I could not bear to face her.

I had regrown my life

from the scars of my past,

and had started over once again

to make something that would last–

but I missed her.

I felt the guilt

and blame for not going more,

I felt the ache

and shame,

of not knowing more….

But I couldn’t face it.

I knew that she

was safe and sound

at least in her body

but her mind no longer found

it’s way to her soul.

They were disconnected.

The last day I saw her

I had been given a call

that her hands and feet were mottled,

and that soon that would be all.

that she’s soon fall

into an Angels’ arms and coddled—

I rushed to be there for her

so when she left the shore I’d know

that she at least

had some sort of peace

as she sailed the boat to go.

Goodnight Mom, I wished I had done better….

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