A Poem

Seven days ago, I died. Now, nobody will talk to me.

I know what you are thinking.  It is impossible to speak to the dead.

But I refuse to believe it.

I never got to say good-bye. It was just a regular Monday.

I was driving to work and then they were pulling me out of the crushed car.

I knew my life on earth was over and I walked calmly back home.

There I waited and observed my husband and daughter comfort each other.

Their love for me is immense and so strong that I could feel it wash over me.

Yet, they did not talk to me.

The last week I have seen many loved ones come and go.

They tell stories and laugh. The share memories and cry.

They all know that I never feared my spirit’s release

and that I want them to remember me living.

Still, no one talked to me.

I stood around. I moved among them. I whispered in their ears.  They smile.

But they said nothing.

Today, my ashes are released over the river I love so much.

I can feel a part of me join the gentle current.  Freedom lifts me.

Then a tiny voice stops my ascent.

She is talking to me.

“Mom? I don’t know if you can hear me—but I wanted to tell you that…

that I am so lucky to have had you.”

My heart feels heavy and alive.

I find myself standing in front of my beautiful child.

I resent the time I will not have.  I miss the moments that will never be.

I caress her moist cheek and say into the wind,

“You will always have me. I love you.”

She smiles. “I know. I love you, too.”

Joy lifts my spirit and this time I rise quickly.

I know as I look down at her…

She will always hear my voice and

someone will talk to me.