Nine Months

I have grieved for you as long as I carried you in my belly
Obviously I liked being pregnant more
this state is torture
You are just gone
I know what happened to your body
but I don’t know about your soul
I want to speak to you so much
and hear your voice
I read your notebook today
so fresh alive
you said my mom is so sad
If people are capable of change
I am changing every day
but one thing is constant
I thought I was bringing you in to the world to grow old
I thought I would get to see you middle aged
none of that

When you were a baby Liza and I rocked you around the house
bouncing you on my hip
singing I’m an old cow hand
from the rio grande
any old song that would cheer you
calm you down to

I sang you lullabies
Do you  remember the one
All the pretty little horses
Oh darling
I am lost  


  1. Grieving for you
    Not knowing how you put
    One foot in front of the other
    Daily, weekly, yearly.

    Accept the outstretched hand
    Of another mother
    I would gladly share my own
    If it could help more than hurt

    I'm sorry.
    (So very sorry.)

    ~Smith Mom~

  2. That is staggeringly beautiful.


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How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry