My mother has always been the bearer of bad news.
but no matter how dark the news is, she bears it with such grace and love,
the first thought to push through the screaming and wailing in my mind is
“I love you.”
So when I heard my mother bear news with sadness that had latched onto her very bones,
I broke. I wept.
She stood, with tears in her eyes, at more funerals than I can number on both of my hands,
but never let a tear fall.
So when I heard her, 1,209 miles away, gasp for air in between sobs,
I knew it was different.
She was different.
I was different.
Our family was changing.
And there was no going back.