Mommy, here, I’ve brought the albums
That you have asked me to.
The doctors told me all the rules;
See how they’ve masked me, too?

So why are you now showing me
Images of your youth?
And what is this you’re telling me?
What is this thing, your “truth”?

And what’s inside that envelope?
Some pictures that you’ve hid
With faces I have never seen,
And all these things you did?

Why talk about some pregnancy,
A time that you went wild?
Why are you now sobbing, mommy,
Who is this other child?

You’re speaking of some past “regret”;
Why does it make you cry?
How come you’re listing all the things
To do before we die?

Now you’re saying that you’re sorry,
Sorry for everything.
With tubes in arms you grab me tight
For joys that I did bring.

Alarms are sounding, blaring loud,
Nurses come quick to you.
They pull me back as doctors come
All shouting loud, “Code blue!”

My Uncle Jim, he takes me out
Holding back every tear.
I barely hear him telling me
Death could be very near.

I’m holding still within my hand
A picture that you gave
Of you so young with smiling friends,
Something I plan to save.

What I don’t get is why the fuss?
Why everyone’s so sad?
When someone leaves we’ll miss them but
Why is this now so bad?

My Grandpa lives in Florida
I’ve never seen his place.
I’ve never heard him speak to me
Or seen him face to face.

One day I think we’ll visit him
But if we never do,
I know he’s there and he loves me,
My heart, it knows it’s true.

So, death’s a trip to some new place,
A place that we all go,
Some neighborhood with all our friends
From now and long ago.

If church is right, and Sunday school,
Then God prepares the way,
And, mommy, you’re now in that place
And I’ll be there someday.

(Photo by Erkan Utu)