Mother

"First my left foot, then my right, behind the other;
Breadcrumbs lost under the snow...oh, Mother..."
(Tori Amos)

I don’t mourn the loss of you in my life, so much as I mourn the loss of life in you–the ghosts of birthdays and Christmases yet to come that, for you, can never be anything but. I have, until the day I die, all my memories of you to keep me, but you will never have all those days and smiles and joys that should have been yours to keep. And most tragic of all, neither will the beautiful grandchildren for whom you prepared a promised land that you, like Moses, could only dream of but never enter.

Happy birthday, Mom.