Where We're Left to Stand

My mom had me write a poem for the funeral and like any other person I wrote it on Thursday...the day of the funeral

The trouble I had with this was where to begin, and to try not to think of the people who would read it. Because for some reason I was all "Eeee people reading it makes me uncomfortable" since they can come up to you and such, which at the time I also realized was very ironic since I put things up online for people to read, where in fact more people can read but there is that non-face-to-face contact so, who knows...

Anyhow, trying to eliminate that thought was tricky, trying to write it also was as well. Especially because I would go to say something then pull back because I wondered how truthful I should be or not.

In the end, really in the end here, where it talks about the bench and what not, I made that up, creativity is more fun after all. And I needed a better end as well.

And amazingly enough this isn't as sad as my usual stuff, I think it has a light-hearted note to it with just enough sadness in the end.

People did read it of course, but the responses were good, people liked it and commented about it and even one of my mom's friends, Donna, said it made her teary-eyed [which she was when she came over to tell me so] so that is a little accomplishment in itself I suppose.

[Written December 23.2010]

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