MY TURN NOW

[And my dear Mother - I have been greatly
moved and touched by requests to use this
verse at memorial services for other
peoples’ departed mothers.]
I used to think I was a comfort,
When friends were just newly bereaved,
And I'd hand them the old well-worn cliches,
And I'd think: "There! That helped as they grieved!"
And I'd say: "He's at rest now, and peaceful",
Or: "You know at his age it was best!"
Or: "At least she will suffer no longer:
She's gone home, up aloft, with the blessed."

But it's odd now, for everything's different,
Because this time it's me that's bereft.
Come now, hand me a comforting cliche!
What's that? There just isn't one left?
Well, it's done now. The small home is scattered,
And the treasured goods all handed on,
But in all of her that really mattered,
My mother will never be gone.

She wasn't a saint - she was maddening,
Capricious and captious and tart,
But living and loving and laughing,
My Mum's in her place in my heart.
So ignore me at times if I'm quiet.
Turn away if the tears start to come.
Yes, I know that it's best that she's gone to her rest.
Don't mind me. I'm just missing my Mum.
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