The Matriarch

The Matriarch 

My dad might be gone,

but my mom is still very much here.

She’s always been a

‘tears may last for the night

but joy comes in the morning’

kind of spirited soul.

She acknowledges loss

without dwelling on it.

It’s been that way since 1950.

 

Yesterday she celebrated 

her seventy-first birthday,

which has generally been a day

to check in with loved ones

making sure they are ok.

She made her rounds yesterday

And by the time I talked to her,

She was pretty much spent—

Broken and spilled out

like a drink offering before the Lord.

 

She doesn’t like a lot of attention,

but I know of no one

who deserves more.

Her tireless and thankless

commitment to so many for so long

stands as a weathered Ebenezer 

for future generations—

my children adore her for it.

 

“Mimi is so cute.” 

 

My girls have said this of her

since coming of age

and realizing with time

how rare their grandma really is.

They know of no purer person.

Her love is without guile,

her motherly care, peerless.

She’s in a league of her own.

 

I know this is a year of firsts

without my dad by her side,

But her indomitable soul

rises like the Phoenix.

Her name is Philena which means:

“Lover of all mankind.”

How perfectly fitting

for someone of her ilk.

A mother to many.

A mother to me.

 

Yes, my dad might be gone,

but my mom is still very much here.

 

Happy Birthday!  I love you.