July is my mother’s birthday month. I miss her every day as all of us must miss our mothers when they pass. It’s been 14 years now. Here is a piece I wrote when she was still on this earth.

Eighty-seven 

As sweet as the days when hands were young and dexterous enough to whip one up from scratch. 

And love is just as strong as the days when little ones ran through her home with laughter and mischief bouncing off the walls. 

Love is just as strong, but guards itself and worries about how many more celebrations we will have with her, 

It worries about how much more her body will wear down with the years And how will we ever cope with the eventual heartache of loss? 

When I was a child, I wished that I would pass before my parents, to save myself from the pain of loss. 

I feared I would go mad to lose either one 

I wonder, as children left their nest, which bit of heart each of us tore out of them. 

Then Daddy left, after lingering in a punishing limbo  that calls itself Parkinsons 

And I did not go mad. 

The family moves on and loves on. And sometimes we each cry private tears; 

We regret private regrets. 

And we live on. 

And love is strong. 

The cake is rich sweetness, delicious as life. 

Gets us through difficult times and worth the sweetness in the end 

I help Mom with her fork and wipe icing off the side of her cheek.  

She sticks her tongue out to the side to lick it off herself. 

I smile secretly to myself. 

And relish our time together. 

My grandson beside her wheelchair enjoys his slice of sweetness, too, 

Happy with the family gathered in this place, Gramma’s big house. 

Hugs aunts and chases cousins until it’s Nite Nite time. 

His mother gathers him up, and he calls to me, “Bye, Nana!”  

Then whisks away with my once baby girl grown up feathering her own nest. 

We sit together another day that week to share burgers and fries, 

With lots of catsup. 

My two-year-old grandson nudges gently next to me. 

He looks tenderly at Nana’s face. 

And with his napkin wipes a smear of mustard from my cheek.  

Irene Espinosa Mooneyhan 

July 24, 2008