I told my youngest brother
That when our mother dies
I think I will feel relieved

I don’t remember saying that
And so neither the context
But he says I said it,
It's bothered him for years.

My relationship with my mother
Travels and laughs and shares
(We know, even cherish, each other)
But it is anchored forever
In my childhood

We don’t speak every week
We don’t live in the same city
Or state, or country
A lot of distance and time are required
To spread the weight
Of our shared trauma

So when I imagine having lost her
It’s an abstract and false wish
For relief of shared pain
For us both

----------

But when loss is known, before
The loss of your best friend
The better half of your best self
Your actual lover
When that loss is known
There is no imagined relief
No hope for an easier path
It is a new, awkward and lopsided weight
Banging against you with each step

Friends who are all the fun in the world
Are suddenly drones to be humored
The sacred communion of dinner parties
Once filled with laughter
Flickers in and out
Like a slow-motion visitation

Sex that was once a hungry revelation
Is now a hopeful reenactment
Sometimes failed

And almost-grown kids
Who've enjoyed the privilege of selfishness
Now bear an unexpected maturity
Their kindness and patience heartbreaking

This is no abstraction
This is now, and now and now
This is the unthinkable
Coming to me in slow motion
Changing the landscape
Even before it arrives.