Truth is, I hate talking on the phone,
Not big with email or texting,
Can almost always sit in silence
Without much effort at all.
That’s why today was tough.
I’ve been sitting in my cocoon
Unable to muster the strength
To make the phone call I needed to make.
My friend’s father passed away,
I needed to call his mother.
She’s always called me her other son,
And like my mom, she’s been there for me
Able to yell at me without fear of me coming back
Like sons do to their mothers,
Able to teach me different lessons than my mom.
I’ve been lucky to know good women,
My grandmothers, strong and independent,
My mom, flexible and nurturing,
My wife, always giving me a necessary ego check and perfect partner,
And then, my other mom, lover of life.
To the end she stuck by her man,
He to her as well,
She making sure his final days went in dignity,
He making sure his final breath,
Was taken while she took a much needed rest.
I worried about calling her,
It had been so long since we last talked.
Would she be too upset to talk?
How wrong is it to call only in tragedy?
Would she even answer an unknown number?
Perhaps the fates lined up just right,
It was like I was back in the trailer
Getting lectured about what time to be home,
Where I was sleeping, and that we better not
Wake everyone up.
She told me stories and shared feelings
About how much I meant to her, how much she loves her son,
How Albert used to talk about me
And I started crying because it seems like
People just don’t share those things enough.
Heck, I’m struggling to type this now,
I was worn out before we talked,
Stupid life, schools, jobs, all the clutter in life
Was jamming me up so badly.
Thank G…, no thank Linda, I made that call.
She made me feel better with that mom’s way.