Oh, my dearest mother.So strong and smart,Kind and clumsy.The way I grow into your face and hair,The way our bodies look alike.The way you were taken too soon.
Our career choices so similar,Quite literally the same.I follow close in your footsteps,Reminding my father of us as I grow.The scents of latex and hospital filling my noseIn our last moments, which I took for granted.The way I could never wish for any more than a final hug.
I'm sorry I was too scared to say goodbye.I'm sorry I chickened out.I didn't want to see you in that hurt, vegetative state.I thought you wouldn't go.I thought you'd stay forever.To me, it seemed impossible.A little six-year-old could never see her mother leave.Not the one whom she sees as a god,Not the one who is her biggest fan.Not the one who sees her as the biggest role model in her life.
Your thick, dark Italian hairJust like your mother's.Your dark brown eyes,Like the most gorgeous hazelnut.Your cooking, so fantastic and comforting,That I took for granted.I'm sorry I never missed you sooner.I'm sorry you had to go.