Today's my Mom's birthday.
1912 it was, when it began.
And when she took leave of us,
1988, I had no tears.
Until my daughter, then 12, said,
"I remember playing Uno with her."
A few years later, at a Jungian Retreat,
We were, all 30 of us, or so, on the floor.
For some reason, the question came: "Do I want
My mother in heaven?"
I had to think about it.
At the time, no great desire to ever "see her again."
And to this day, no great desire.
But, then, a thought:
"Might she at last, at least, there.
Find a peace that eluded her here?
And with that, I was at peace.
"Let her find the missing pieces."
If that's what heaven's about.
To this day, the memories remain.
And they're not fun.
She laughed heartily when she laughed.
She had intelligence ... a fine mind.
Often mean in its skills.
And bitter with rage and jealousy.
She birthed me, for sure.
Slapped me and screamed at me.
Threw an ashtray at me in 10th grade.
She missed, and put a hole in the wall.
Home life was tense.
Fearful of the explosion.
That would always come.
Sooner if not later.
Mostly sooner it was.
I remember ... can't help it.
So I'll go with my Jungian recollection.
Hope she has found her peace.
What she never had here.
I give thanks for her DNA in me.
Perhaps I've realized some of the gifts of
Life she never could embrace.
I've found my own peace.
With the all the pieces of my life.
And with a turn to my life.
To my wife.
To my children.
To what has been, what is, and what shall be.
I'll turn to my Mom.
And say it in faith.
"Happy Birthday Mom."
"Be of good cheer.
Kick up your heels.
Love those around you."
"Happy Birthday Mom.