Poem Found

Found this poem when I was looking through some old textbooks for writing prompts (a new idea I have). I’d say it was written around 3 years ago. Right after my mom passed away. It’s not exactly true to my life, except for the feelings it captured.

Not Last, But First
The roaring and babbling echoes
brought the tears.
I was shattered to feel such pain.
So unexpected.

My mind had known there were many
last moments
that would render me
inconsolable with grief.

The last kiss,
the last reaching out
to touch a frail hand.
The last whisper of breath
past beloved lips.

But I had not thought
then
of all the firsts.

The first basketball game
With one less voice
to cheer me on.
The first good grade when my steps
faltered suddenly
in the run to share good news.

The first rose to bloom
with one less hand
to tend it.

I had known
I would miss you.
That the lasts
would bring sorrow.
But I’d forgotten
about all the firsts.

Since I wrote this poem I’ve dealt with many firsts, and more lasts. With my mother gone, my grandmother’s heart broke and we lost her last year. My daughter lost a baby born to soon. I’ve dealt with an empty nest, full of firsts done alone. And back to more firsts with a new baby that make me miss mom and gran more. This poem still fits. Unedited. Off the cuff. The lasts are hard, but the firsts still bring tears to my eyes.

Note: This was probably more like 5 years ago. Before we lost my mom. The first loss I faced was my grandfather, when I was 10 or so. I used to love running to him to share my day.

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