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David Viewing Mother
Mother didn’t exist for millions of years. She was born in the summer of 1977. She lived forty-five years before ceasing to exist on May 2, 2023. Now, she is only in the memories of others.
These were my thoughts as I watched mother’s last lover, David, lean over her casket. I imagined the panicked stirrings he and my mother created together and the sense of gratitude he must have felt the moment she led him into her heat. They would have fallen into a fluid rhythm, gently sliding together toward heaven.
He touched the lines at the corners of Mother's eyes. “I remember how they wrinkled when she laughed,” he whispered to me.
Now all is silent. The animation of forty-five years has ceased. Thoughts no longer linger behind her placid brow.
He turned to me. In his eyes I saw the love they’d shared at the brief intersection of their existence.
These were my thoughts as I watched mother’s last lover, David, lean over her casket. I imagined the panicked stirrings he and my mother created together and the sense of gratitude he must have felt the moment she led him into her heat. They would have fallen into a fluid rhythm, gently sliding together toward heaven.
He touched the lines at the corners of Mother's eyes. “I remember how they wrinkled when she laughed,” he whispered to me.
Now all is silent. The animation of forty-five years has ceased. Thoughts no longer linger behind her placid brow.
He turned to me. In his eyes I saw the love they’d shared at the brief intersection of their existence.
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