I will not define you by
the manner of your death
but by the entirety of your life.
Each stitch and thread
I cannot know, but I do know
that there was joy and much hard
work with little real rest.
Those times when you were lost
the bread still got baked,
the kids off to school.
Were you perfect?
No. You were as human as us all.
Do I have you on a pedestal?
In my child’s eyes, I may have, but
with the supposed wisdom of my 77 years,
I’ve allowed you to come down to earth
where you can be loved just as you were.
“Beware the barrenness of a busy life.”
~ Socrates
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