Today I Go to the Funeral to Bury the Mother I Love

I wrote this the day she buried her mother, trying to hold prayer and grief together as she recited the first Kaddish for her.

Today I go to the funeral

To bury the mother I love

To say goodbye, to somehow let go

In a moment so reminiscent of

A series of partings, now so fleeting

When we hugged, though I knew she'd be there

Yet today, as I lay her to rest,

It's a final goodbye, that first Kaddish prayer

Today I put on my suit and tie

As I ready the family, all fapitzed

For a moment so sacred, so devastating

For a ritual that forces me to admit

That my mother, my mommy, has left us

Though she'll dwell in my heart and my head

But she'll no longer be with me in this world

Because my mother... MY MOTHER... is dead!?!

They'll ask me, "So, how are you doing?"

Expecting words I cannot yet give

How to absorb that she's really gone,

That without her, I'm still supposed to live

So I'll drive to her graveside, trembling

And I'll hold up the prayer book and pray:

"Holy One, please watch over my mother…

And maybe… help her son just get through today."