October 27th

(today, 15 years)

When I talk about October 27th

I want it to hurt

I want you to feel your stomach twist

to clutch your shirt

I want the pain to penetrate deep

where you wobble

gravity working against you

threatening to make you topple

feel the fear seep into your throat

at the word

fatality

at the finality of life

the shattering of innocence

when two daughters write a note

“mom, call us—we are looking for you because Dad is worried”

we wrote it

thinking

this is a joke

because our type A creature of routine

mother wasn’t home from her morning run

our dad says he is calling the police

and we thought what a reach

an over reaction

until he calls back

and speaks

the worst possible fear

the birth of anxiety lives right here

do you feel it in your skin

as it crawls?

where you find yourself walking the halls of your high school

to pick up your youngest sister

and you feel nothing but pure rage

when the admin assistant asks why you are here

because to everyone else

it’s just a normal Tuesday

but you are asking my to say

our mom died

and we must go to the hospital

to say a too late goodbye

and in that moment

I care nothing for your shocked reply

because Life Source wants her eyes

the gift of sight for another person

but it feels like they are stealing

and they are the demon

the scene

I can’t reckon

my mom lying

on a hospital bed

dead

purple tongue

speaking the loudest

in it’s silence

interrupted by the ringing of Life Source

wanting to confirm her donation

50 years young

sudden massive heart attack is the situation

and I hate myself for wanting to leave

her

for wondering if I should touch her face

when she never liked her face touched

where I feel like a thief

taking her earrings and rings off her still warm body

have you found yourself in this space before?

where the life force is cooling as you hold her hand

and the bright skies hurt your eyes

and I can’t even feel the sting of the crisp breeze on my face

as we walked

to the spot

where she collapsed

she was almost home

almost there

just down the street

a group of teens walk by and say

‘someone died here this morning’

and we stare

and everything inside seethes

how dare you

but the comment strips you bare

exposed

as you sit with your siblings

and your bother cries

he never cries

my mother never cried

I don’t know why

but the next morning we ran as fast as we could

daring death to take us too

like a taunt saying

catch me if you can

fucked up, right?

It feels that way when I say it out loud

and this is the first time writing it down

I never allowed the grief to drown me

but I wish I did

because I was 19

a kid

now there is a slow shattering happening inside

so, it’s strange to hope your stomach acid as pooled in your belly

or your knees feel like jelly

or if you have felt a body cool

than maybe you find yourself nodding along

because you belong to this club too

and I hope this finds you like an outstretched hand

in it’s me too

I write this for the sophomore in college

who stitched together her own heart

who knew the art of a tasteful and appropriate email

that she wrote to her cross country team and professors

so buttoned up

and now I itch

to let the stitches

pop

open

and to not stop

my own wild bleeding

pleading

to be seen

so, to my own mother

I won’t forget what happened to you or me on October 27th

when your lungs took their last breath in

mine began carrying all your lost breaths since

let this ring

as a reclamation

from your mild mannered daughter

as I speak

from the wild in my tongue

as it cuts

in it’s remembrance

of yours

in it’s purple

(3 days before she died)