Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
To Karen, on Mother’s Day
You wouldn’t celebrate Mother’s Day because you considered it a manufactured holiday. Didn’t stop you from celebrating Father’s Day, of course. Your preferences were your preferences, and mine were mine, and God forbid I should be at all critical of yours.
I think of the some of the movies you watched repeatedly: The Heiress, perhaps, or Resident Evil, or even (inexplicably to me at the time) Titanic. And it all makes sense now. The protagonists were all survivors, and often badasses. There’s no doubt in my mind that in your strongest moments, you wanted to survive. Maybe even in the weaker moments, too, and maybe even in the face of the gruesome logic that none of us survive for long. You certainly beat your own expectations. But I wish you would have beaten the odds a while longer.
Sometimes I can feel you inside me, so keenly.
Happy Mother’s Day. You have to suck it up now and not grumble about it.
D.
And you are so fucking beautiful, and you had to die for me to know it. Just wanted to slip that in, if you’re listening.