Prepared

My Mother

Prepared

The Thanksgiving turkey was in the refrigerator.
Potatoes, cranberries, green beans, stuffing
and pumpkin pie fixings  all ready to be prepared.

At home that night she made many phone calls:
A niece, a nephew's wife, both daughters, a friend.
Everyone said she was optimistic, cheerful, funny.

She died the following morning. Her heart failed,
and she was discovered two hours later.

People talked about all the calls she made,
many more than usual, as if she had a premonition
and a need to connect for one last time.

I believe this to be true; she was my mother.

We celebrated Thanksgiving two days later.
Without her we prepared her meal;
she would have wanted it that way.

We left an empty chair at the table,
just in case she still had not totally left. 
I think she was there. No, I know she was.

This poem is submitted to dVerse Poetics:Preparation is Key... where I  'tend bar' Saturday beginning at 3 p.m. Eastern; and as we prepare for the holiday season ahead and also for the new year on the horizon we're writing about preparation...of all kinds.   I am also submitting it for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

My mother died twenty-five years ago today on November 24, 1987.  The Thanksgiving dinner foods were all ready to be prepared for Thanksgiving two days later; but one is never prepared for the loss of a mother.