Thankful for the Years

Thankful for the Years
by Lyn Marinello (2022)

I'd rather celebrate your birthday, than mourn your last sweet sip of air.
Wander fondly through the memories, than choke on thick despair.
Rounds and rounds of golf and the trophies that we won.
You, on keyboard, in your glory, entertaining everyone.
Driving me to dance class; indulging tap, jazz and ballet.
Duets on the piano. Diffusing the Saturday morning fray.
Plaster of Paris parties. Typesetting Gestalt for days on end.
You never met a stranger; just another brand new friend.
The endless urn of coffee. Proud of my tricks in bars.
Craps games in the kitchen. All those St. Peter's Church bazaars.
Mending my broken heart with all the wisdom that you share.
Nervously cheering floor routines, throwing my body uselessly in the air.
So very many nights of varied music and of games.
Watching all our home productions. Sorting fists and fights and blames.
Allowing and instilling that we care for every stray.
Whether bi- or quadrupedal; you'd welcome them to stay.
Holidays were epic. You just left magic in your wake.
Stood strong against all obstacles; taught us to bend but never break.
Life, you said, is much like gambling. You've got to always roll the dice.
Be nice no matter what ... until it's time to not be nice.
The chasm you left is gaping. Some days, still, are hard to walk.
I want to pick my cell phone up so we can laugh and sing and talk.
The strength that you imparted helps me navigate those dips.
And I find myself quite frequently making use of your sage quips.
And with a photo or a tune, I'm occasionally overwhelmed by tears.
Saddened by the hole you left. Eternally thankful for the years.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom!
I miss you.