I don’t know how to mourn you

because the you that left us

is certainly not the you that I grew up with.

The you that I recall

was the one who held space for me in her home,

always had kind words to direct my way,

and an ear for my voice when I was stepping

in unsureness and uncertainty becoming an adult.

The you that I recall

had Christmas presents for me under the tree

something I never had at my home,

held my son so lovingly and played with him,

after being the first to ever feed him solids.

The you that I recall

would ask to see my report card, checking for

that Physics score that my high school teacher

constantly gave me ‘F’s in and I never knew what

to tell you but you never made me feel less than.

The you that I recall

loved me soundlessly, consistently and quietly…

and you laughed and loved my son in the same way.

I don’t know how to mourn you

or perhaps it’s just that I don’t know

how to say goodbye.