An anonymous poet once wrote, “I think of you often and make no outward show, but what it means to lose you, no one will ever know you wished no one farewell, not even said good-bye, you were gone before I knew it, and only God knows why. You are not forgotten nor will you ever be, as long as life and memories last, I will remember thee. To some you may be forgotten, to others a part of the past, but to me who loved you dearly, your memories will always last. Nothing can be more beautiful than the memories I have of you. To me, you were someone special; God must have thought so too! If tears could build a staircase and memories a lane, I would walk all the way to Heaven, and bring you back again.” If there were any one person I could invite to have dinner with, any person that has ever walked this earth, it would without a question have to be my Mom. I lost her nearly three years ago; I miss her more than any words or melodies could say or sing. She has the only advice that I want to hear and the only advice that I need to hear. After our dinner, homemade by her of course, I’d like a proper goodbye.
I’d like to have dinner with my momma, and it’d have to be homemade by her. Even though I may have invited her, she knows exactly what I would prefer. Her famous baked ziti or lasagna, no it would be her corn chowder for sure. I miss her with every ounce of my soul; the smell of her skin and how it always made everything alright within; the clanging of her gold bracelets around her wrists and how those sounds let me know where she was to be found; the talks in the car about the bastard at the bar; her manner and grace, every look that ever crossed her face, they all hold their special place.
To be able to sit down with my mother, a cup of Folgers with a splash of amaretto, and a pack of Marlboro lights, to be able to take in all her advice, it would more than suffice. She’s the one person who knows who I am and she knows who I’m not and I just want to tell her who I want to be. Simply put, I find that the only opinions that I really want to hear are from the person that is just not here.
After a few cups of coffee, a long much needed talk, and a sorrowful glance at the clock I’d like to stand and get a hug and kiss goodbye and promise that this would not be the last time. I’d certainly like a proper goodbye unlike the last time, and this time I will not cry.
I would have my mother as my guest and chef of honor over anybody in the world rich, famous, living or dead. Not solely because I miss her, and not only because I crave her words of wisdom, but also because I’d like to at least finally say “goodbye… for now”.
