©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
My heart is like a google drive. Streamed memories of you
float through the cloud in my less-sunny mind,
an often-viewed assortment of mixed ages and all stages,
good moods and lengthy broods, a motley find.
Kaleidoscopic flashes…basketballs, wristbands, “cool” shoes,
sport socks (mismatched) of every style and hue.
A curly head, a sleek bowl cut, that championship buzz,
skateboards and stethoscopes, to name a few.
I see you by the ocean, in the car, your crib,
my dreams. The court, the track, the playground, parking lot.
Your scalpels in the dresser, Lakers roundball in your hand,
whirling upon one finger like a top.
Vanilla shakes and birthday cakes, pajama pants and hoodies,
your watch and sunglass stash, lab coats, and more.
Those golden days, relentless nights, hospitals from both sides,
bright waves that rose to crash upon the shore.
The juggling, the struggling, the great debates, the jokes,
the words that landed sweetly in my brain.
From gummy smile to bashful grin to full-on cocky smirk,
blue eyes of life and death, all these remain.
My heart is like a google drive. My head is in the cloud.
Around me endless joy, enduring pain.
Grief and remembrance go hand-in-hand when bereaved parents think of their lost children, which is much of the time. Child loss, in a very literal sense, never ends.
I would not want to forget my son, not ever, but memories of him are often bittersweet. Still, I am grateful to be his mother and value every moment spent with him in this life. I hold close the kaleidoscope of memories I carry, along with his very essence, in my heart.
One day, we will meet again, and absence will be replaced by presence. Needless to say, I await that day with great anticipation. Until then, my heart is and will remain a google drive…
If this poem resonates with you, you might also enjoy reading Notes on Grief: The Second Year, Presence not Absence, and Broken but Blessed. Other suggestions are listed below under the heading “Related Poems.”