Wednesday, February 12, 2020


Thinking about my mother a lot lately.
Maybe I’m finally grieving.
I honestly don’t know.

She was as tough as they come.
The only person I’ve ever feared.
Her love something her children still seek.

She didn’t like for me to go to her doctor appointments, but on that particular day she needed help getting into Marcia Green’s car so we decided it was best I come along.
In one split second everything changed and I’m still picking myself up from off of the floor.
My mommy is dead and it’s a score I must settle with myself before I can ask my creator why he killed the person who created me.

Thinking about my mother a lot lately.
Her ashes are still here with me because I cannot think of anywhere she’d be completely at peace.
My siblings were jealous of me from the day I was born because my mother and I always shared a special bond that no one outside of our bubble could possibly comprehend.

My sister only visited my mother once when she was sick and my brother never spoke to her because holding onto his anger must have been more important than blood and atonement.
I was named the executor of her estate because she must have known that I was her only child who wouldn’t sell her out and understood that her wishes were sacrosanct.
She’d stay in the bathroom for hours on end when we were kids reading, doing the crossword and talking on the phone because I believe that was the only place she felt safe and could dictate things on her own terms with absolutely no blowback from anyone.

Charles Cicirella

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