“And where are you and what are you doing?”
She said from her raft as it drifted.
My mother is far away even when she is near.
It seems that soon after I call she forgets who I am.
Names swim beneath her raft and evade her mind’s hook.
The telephone has become mysterious.
“Where is the voice coming from?”
Her tone is bewildered.
Presently the ocean is calm; the raft drifts on
taking her farther and farther.
Mama, where are you going? Why must you leave me
even before you have left.
Could you at least wave from your raft?
Is the shoreline too misty and too far away
for you to see me from where I am waving?
My aching heart is cast upon the waves.
Now it dissolves becoming one with the sea.
It surrounds your raft and you. It is with you always.
and my love is part of the sea around you.
It no longer matters whether or not you can see me waving.
Text and Photo by Tasha Halpert
For the record, Mom passed away two years ago this summer, peacefully, two years sort of her 100th.
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Hugs. Hugs. Hugs.
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Thank you, my friend, so much.
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