My Mother's House

My mother died last year My grief has not yet healed Her last years were difficult The task of sorting her possessions was left to me I sit in her kitchen I look around with heavy heart I begin the process I pick up her scarves; they are soft and colorful A sharp contrast to my mom She was a complicated woman with simple needs She had many fears that ruled her life She had many loves her church, her children, her husband I walk through her house and slowly pick up items that she once held Some must be discarded. I find that a painful thought But I must remember: they aren't part of her, they never were Still, I feel that she is part of them some how I hold each piece in my hand, turn it over and hold it close I cannot finish this today I'll come back tomorrow