Mother died today. That's how it began. Or maybe yesterday, I can't be sure. I gave the book to my mother in the hospital. She read the first sentence. Mother died today. She laughed and said you sure know how to cheer me up. The telegram came. It said, Mother dead Stop Funeral tomorrow Stop. Mother read it in the hospital and laughed at her college boy son. Or maybe yesterday, I don't remember. Mama died yesterday. The telegram arrived a day too late. I had already left. Europe is going down, the Euro is finished, and what does it matter? My mother served plum cake and I read the page aloud. Mother died today or yesterday and I can't be sure and it doesn't matter. Germany can lose two world wars and still rule all of Europe, and does it matter whether you die at thirty or seventy? Mother died today. It was Mother's Day, the day she died, the year she died. In 1940 it was the day the Germans invaded Belgium and France and Churchill succeeded Chamberlain as Prime Minister. The telegram came from the asylum, the home, the hospital, the "assisted living" facility, the hospice, the clinic. Your mother passed away. Heartfelt condolences. The price of rice is going up, and what does it matter? I'Il tell you what I told the nurse and anyone that asks. Mother died today. -- DL
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Thanks for posting, DL. This poem reminds me how nothing much matters but the heart.
Posted by: emma | May 10, 2012 at 06:27 AM
The Stranger really is so amazing. And how the issue of coldness, self-determination, and philosophy of that book head in one direction while the narrative of this particular poem head in a more complicated one works so beautifully. The young man. His ironic gift. And the way one can see with his particular mother, right there IN the irony, that beautiful sense of connection. So opposite of Camus. And this is roughly an anniversary, yes? I remember being in shul thoughts pointing south, right around shavuot, and nothing good came of it. Camus is the order of the day this month in Pasadena, California. Yesterday, the teacher asked some question about right and wrong, connected to the book, and someone I love opined that Camus would have objected to the framework of the question. A 40-minute footnote resulted. Thank you for posting this!
Posted by: Jenny Factor | May 10, 2012 at 03:06 PM
Thank you Emma -- and you Jenny. My mother died on Sunday, May 10, 2009, which was Mother's Day that year. It was the jahrzeit that prompted me to write the poem. -- DL
Posted by: The Best American Poetry | May 10, 2012 at 08:19 PM
You never get over it, do you? My mom died in 1990 - and I miss her every day.
Posted by: Laura Orem | May 11, 2012 at 12:02 PM
What a lovely piece, David! My mom died 12 years ago. I think and write about her all the time. So our paths cross again. I had an essay about my mom called "Mom's Lessons on Love" published in The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine on May 9, 2010.
It's my current post on on my blog: LOVE 'N STUFF: My So-Called Blog. www.nancykelton.com/wordpress
Happy Mother's Day to our MOMS!
Nancy Davidoff Kelton
Posted by: Nancy | May 12, 2012 at 07:32 AM
Happy Mother's Day to our MOMS!
Posted by: Senior living minnesota | May 07, 2018 at 08:13 PM
Thanks my friend. It's great post.
Posted by: James Bong | January 07, 2019 at 08:11 PM