Dios de los Muertos

Once they were young, beautiful and handsome, my parents. Now they’re gone. I miss them. A lot. Often. Mostly when I have no clue what to do about my disabled sister and nephew, but also when my niece sends me pictures of the great-grandchild they will never see, when my kids graduate from high school as my youngest will next year and they can’t be there, on my birthday like Friday when the card from mom won’t show up.

There are things I’m glad they can’t see now, like how messed up everything in this country is right now, like our soldiers being used to fight an illegal war for oil and dreams of empire, like all of America’s “hard work” going to reward the wealthy and none of it going to those doing the hard work. These things sadden me, and I know they would sadden and anger my parents, life-long Republicans, until Mom started to note that Mario Cuomo was sounding pretty good these days before she died three years ago.

My mom would be angry at JP Morgan, a huge company, not caring enough to even settle her estate after three years. My mom would be so thrilled about that great-grandchild, though, that not much else would matter.

So mom and dad, for you, the photos I would have sent, that your grand-daughter Courtney would have sent, that now come to me instead. I love you both. And miss you so very much.

Photographs and memories
All the love you gave to me
Somehow it just cant be true
Thats all I’ve left of you…

— Jim Croce