Until Next Time

“What we have once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose,

for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.”

Helen Keller 

My dear Matt,

Does this quotation bring a smile? Authored by one who clearly understood the consequence of fully accepting both love and loss, her words sketch the journey of my truth. I add it here so you know that I genuinely get it.

And, here we are again . . . another September 12^th. This year signals a different type of ending. A new milestone for me, one I never considered dealing with, one I haven’t handled with as much grace as I might have. I’ve been unsettled, saddened, contending with this realization . . . you, my son, have now been dead as long as you were alive. I’ve outlived you twice. Well ... damn.

I wrote a poem about us soon after you were born, and another at your death. An opening and a closing of our earthly time together. This year seemed the right moment to acknowledge another closure. So, here they are for you, son, until our next time.

Matthew Christopher:

18 letters spill over the first line

certifying new life

in tender human form.

Tiny, waving fists brush this exposed heart,

an audacious yawn and unblinking gaze

leave me no choice . . .

leaning down so our foreheads touch,

quietly whispering my love

I breathe in and seal you into me

for life.

Together again

we share the silence of the room.

My man child

lying quietly, hands folded,

dressed by others for our reunion.

I lean forward,

memorizing this new reality,

despising it

as a soft moan escapes

in acceptance . . .

I breathe for us both now.

Moving closer,

head resting on the box that holds you,

whispering my forever love,

I breathe in deeply

sealing your spirit into mine.

Matthew Christopher:

18 letters gently unfold onto the first line

certifying a farewell -

until next time.

Thank you, Matt, for being a part of me . . . then, now, always

Mom