When Moms pass away

When Moms go

by Bernie Paquette

When moms die 
who do we call?

When moms are no longer there
to hold your hand and wipe your tears
where do we put them, our tears
of sadness, and also tears of joy from memories?

When moms go
will the Hallmark card company stock plummet?
Will the mailman wonder why I am getting less mail;

less birthday cards, fewer thank you cards, 
fewer letters with flowing elegant handwriting?

When moms have fought back
from every illness and age ailment 
ever conceived
when moms tell doctors its time to go home
one last time
who do we look to for inspiration, fortitude, unending strength, and stamina
who will show us the way to swing the bat at every hardball life throws at us?

When we hunger for those home-cooked Canadian style dinners
and desserts sweet enough to and varied enough to leave Ben&Jerrys concoctions
in the dust; 
Who do we call for that recipe that we just can’t seem to make come out
the way mom did?

When we want to give true joy and satisfaction
with a personal gift
handmade
one of a kind
art that cannot be replicated
that did not use a pattern
that says mom or grandma all over it;
who can we ask to design, create, package
love for another
like mom did for others so many, many times?

Does anyone’s mother and grandmother
spend two or three days straight together
baking?
Baking pies,
and Petit-De-Soer
and loaves of bread
and peanut-butter Criss-cross cookies
and date squares
and fudge made with Velveeta cheese
and gingerbread as fast as you can eat the little guys
and Old Fashioned Molasses cookies (so good with milk or tea)
and (Mom's famous) peanut butter balls:
in addition to homemade donuts and donut holes
that filled every container in the house that could be found.
Do you remember the balls of dough dropping into
a vat of boiling grease sent to a bubbling frenzy
then watching as the donut or donut hole flipped over by itself!
Those were days you sure did not mind helping out in the kitchen
girl or boy.

What of dinner you say?
Mom’s boiled dinner, New England Baked Beans, Meat Pies, even Meat Loaf 
never went by without seconds and thirds being called for. 


Who will feed us now?
Who will fill our hearts when we are down, our stomachs when we are hungry?

Who will fill the air with country music, ballads, Elvis, Johnny Cash, Hank Snow, gramma's relative Paul Brunelle*, Bill Anderson, Hank Williams,  Ave Maria….
Who will ask us how are the kids and grandkids? 
Who will remind us siblings to watch out for each other, take care of each other and the kids?

When will that last card arrive in the mail? 
Can I send the last one back so that it will come to me again;
that one with mom’s signature handwriting that the nuns tried but failed to teach me? Mom must have sent 12 billion birthday and thank you and happy anniversary cards in her lifetime. 

Can I replicate mom’s recipes and bring back her and gramma's hugs that made me feel special, loved, cared about?

When moms go
who do you call
who do I call now to wipe my tears, to hold my hand?
Where do I go to hug my mom again, to hear her voice, to hold her hand?

Where do I send my gratitude for what she developed me, formed me, nourished, and loved me to become?

When moms go
what address do we send her a Thank-you, a Happy Birthday, a just wanted to say hello and I love you card?

When moms go, why does the music lift me up at the same time make me cry?

When moms go why do my siblings and relatives seem closer though they are miles apart?

When moms go, who do I call to behave like a twelve-year-old again and tell tales
of frogs and lizards, forts and cabins in the woods, of planting gardens, trees, and flowers?

When moms go
I expect mom would say, you buckle up, straighten up, lift your chin, and watch out and take care of your families. 

I will try Mom. 

I miss you and love you.

May Paquette

May 16, 1936 - February 24, 2021

Bernie

PS Mom, I will always hear your canaries, finches, and parakeets when I listen to the birds in the wild. I know they will be singing for you too. 

Note: *Paul Brunelle was the husband of another cousin Suzanne Choinière. She was herself daughter of Liliane Bernard, another sister of (gramma) Jeanne and Antoinette.