DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE.
Are there calendars up there?
Do you know what day it is?
Do you, Mom?
Well, its October 16th, 2006.
Do you know what that means?
Do you, Mom?
Its been three years.
Today is the third anniversary;
The anniversary of the day you passed away.
After six long months of battling the cancer,
You lost.
Didn't you, Mom?
You could've kept going to chemo,
But you didn't.
Did you, Mom?
Jackson and I are visiting you today.
Well, not you, exactly.
But you know what I mean.
We are driving to Tennessee in Jackson's car.
To where you were buried.
Daddy isn't coming.
Every year he makes up some lame excuse.
I don't think he can bear the thought of coming back here.
Jackson and I sit together in the green grass by your headstone.
I lean my head on his shoulder and listen as he reminisces.
Christmases, Thanksgivings, Easters.
Mommy, why'd you leave us?
Why, Mom?
He's telling me about the time we all went to Hawaii.
Do you remember, Mom?
We went surfing;
you and I worked on our tans;
Jackson and Daddy played basketball in the pool.
Do you remember?
Now he's telling me about the day you went into remission for the first time.
We were all so happy.
Weren't you happy, Mom?
My eyes are closed and I'm listening.
Suddenly Jackson stops talking.
But I'm not going to look up.
I just search out his hand and take it.
I give it a little squeeze.
I feel his shoulder shaking beneath my head.
Don't you see Jackson needs you?
Don't you see how much we all need you?
I miss you.
Sha la la la.