Betty & Butch
Madre Mia
“A mother is her son’s first god--she must teach
him how to love.”--T.F. Hodge.
My mother passed away
at 39, before silver gathered
in her hair, before I took
my first plane ride on my
way to Navy boot camp,
before I became anything
besides her first son.
My stepfather, before he
died young from love
of Lucky Strikes, gave me
a plain tattered envelope--
“It’s some of your mother’s
stuff. I can’t look at them
any longer; it makes me
too sad.. Don’t look at the stuff
until you get home.
I found my mother’s
driver’s license,
social security card,
library card,
a book marker with doodles on it,
an 11th grade report card
with straight A’s in a trim line,
(she had dropped out of school
at 17 to give birth to me),
several snapshots of her
as a young girl, a thin gold necklace
with a cross on it,
her wedding ring,
and a hand--written note:
Butch--Art & I are playing cards
over at Lauren & Bob’s. Your dinner
is in the fridge.--Love Mom.
I printed MOTHER
in bold cartoon balloon letters
on the front of the envelope,
and added two snapshots
I had taken of her
tombstone.
Cancer kidnapped my
mother. It stole her smile and
her sparkling blue eyes.
Glenn Buttkus
18 comments:
This is such a strong memory Glenn, truly a perfect poem for those mementos... when you have lost someone I think that note can be the best (and worst) of keepsakes. I hope you still have them somewhere.
I agree, keep them close to your heart! I like the personal write very much, including the picture too Glenn ~
Yes, Glenn, hold on to them. I have realised that I only have some photos and a ring that belonged to my mum. I wish I had just a little more...
This is very powerful, Glenn. I feel like I know you now.
One of the markers of a strong poem is that it touches the hollow of the reader's gut, where she hides her most painful traces, making her swallow back sorrow and so much connection to your piece.
Thank you for doing this to me.
I am 39, by the way.
This is such a powerful and poignant poem Glenn. The way you take us through the ache and then into that place of treasured memories. Well crafted.
Nice remembrance of your mother.
Oh, Glenn.
This line got caught right in my throat:
"before I became anything
besides her first son."
You have become so much. She would be so proud.
A beautiful, touching piece.
This is so moving. It squeezed my heart.
You have shared more than memories here, no less than a piece of your heart. Thank you for this personal write. I lost my dad when I was 22. It sure changes our trajectories in life.
So very touching...would like to have heard you read it, but that would be hard to do without getting a big lump in your throat. I love the note in the envelope...it shows her everyday dedicated, immense love for you in its simplest form. Great photo!
Wish I had such positive memories of my mom when she does pass away, but they're forever tainted with fear and hate, after coming out, to her, on Canada Day, 2006. I feel the love, in your words that bleed through the monitor, to me, Glenn. Your time may have short, but it was filled with love that she gave to you.
I was tearing up from the first stanza. A wonderful picture and tribute, so well written.
Very moving, thank you for sharing.
So long as we hold on to those memories, we'll never lose them. A beautiful tribute indeed.
precious!!!
Oh Glenn. I am overwhelmed with emotion reading this. I am so very sorry for your loss -- when so young. Both your mother and you. There are strong ties here, it is obvious. We hold on to memories through objects and what is in our heart. And yes, cancer is one of the most evil diseases there is.....in all its many forms.
Thinking of you.......
A beautiful and deeply emotional piece Glenn.
This touched such a chord with me, Glenn. I remember cleaning out my husband's dresser after he died...his wallet, driver's license, favorite cuff links, a photo of me during out courtship, etc. I remember thinking this, this is what we have to show for a lifetime. It certainly puts one in touch with what the important things are in this life, doesn't i? Beautifully written, Glenn. Thank you.
Post a Comment