  Leona Grace Swiercek 7/28/1924 -
She's still my mother, who's standing there. It's still her eyes, her face, her hair. It's still her body, but it's just a shell, Of the mother that I once knew so well. She's still my mother, who looks at me, With a look of, "Who might you be?" Her memory's fleeting, her gait is weak. Loved ones long gone are those she seeks. She's still my mother, whose angry words, Like a sharpened sword, my soul can hurt. She's still my mother, who is in assisted living, This I bathed & dressed, whose hair I washed & fixed. She's still my mother...I know tis true. We go to lunch & visit, But nothing is familiar, it's saddening... so triste Of the mother I once knew. Forty-five minutes later she finds my phone number & calls Not even knowing who will answer. And yet doesn't even remember our luncheon, our visit, or my assisting her. She calls & calls time after time since I left today. Not even remembering we spent time together, She has no clue... And so dear God, I turn to You. Please give me patience, wisdom, and love, Til the day that You take her to heaven above. Let me return to see her...if even through tears, Help me answer the phone & remember, The love she gave me through all these years. Though she often is confused of who we all are, I'll love her yet...she's still my mother.
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Copyright 2003 J Renee12960
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