More Than a Mother

By Joseph McGowan

This one seems harder to write than the rest.
For putting into words your love for someone is truly hard to confess.
See, sometimes you’re so close you don’t realize how much you love someone ‘till you’re apart.
That’s when the love from down deep turns to sorrow and the pain from your absence rips into your heart.
See, those memories came back to me again, of the times you were more than a mother, more than a friend.
Of an old worn yellow hat, baseball games, Slater Park and All-Stars,
Of shooting pool with the coolest mom, Boy’s Club days and model cars,
Of Boy’s Club highlights from the Pawtucket Times that we’d clip and save.
To this day I still have those clippings and sometimes I’ll look back on them and relive those glory days.
And I can still see you sitting on the bleachers cheering me on as my teammates yelled for me to crouch so I could get a walk and get on base that day.
And how all the gang would stop at the Columbus Spa, and we’d all have ice-cream sodas, and of course you’d pay,
Of my thirteenth birthday party and a golden bike waiting for me down stairs as my surprise.
I’ll never forget your look as I drove it down the driveway with a grin from ear to ear and gleam in my eyes.
Memories of you calling, “Joey” from the porch of our house on the third floor.
I can still hear you calling me, for time cannot deafen my ears to such a sweet memory,
which I’ll carry with me forever more.
Of hot summer nights, Peter Palagi, lemonade and ice cream.
Kim and I running up the stairs as fast as we could to ask you for money,
as we told the ice cream man to wait with a scream,
Memories of the day I enlisted into the Army, saying good-bye at the train station
was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
But I know you were proud of me, and I was trying to be a man,
still I was saying good-bye to more than a friend, more than my mom.
And as the train pulled out of the station, the tears slowly streamed down my face.
For I was saying good-bye to the end of the life you had worked so hard to make for me,
I was saying good-
bye to more than a place.
Saying good-bye to the times we spent playing golf, tennis, and the card games.
Fishing at Lincoln Woods, going to the beach at Ocean Grove, dough-boys and silly “Alice” names.
Good-bye to Nana and the house at 138 Linwood Avenue that never felt more like a home.
Good-bye to Thanksgiving dinners, Nana’s Spanish rice, your mashed potatoes
and the never-ending love from a family that I called my own.
But those times were long ago and I now have a beautiful wife and son of my own to raise.
Still those memories we shared; me, you and Kim growing up, will live on forever
and that’s why I wrote this poem to give you praise.
See, today’s Mother’s Day and I jus had to tell you I will love you to the end.
And I wanted you to know you’re more than a mother, more than my friend.
Your loving son