Mother, I love you. I wish I could believe as you always did in something after something greater. Maybe a thought or concept like that would give me peace. The knowledge that I could see you again.
Instead, silly atheist that I am and always was, can do nothing but look up at the sky see the clouds and the reflection of the ocean as we once did together and wonder.
I ask ‘where’s god?’ as I did always when I was a child. It’s different now though. No one to laugh smile hug silly little me when I ask. No one to tell me that it’s okay if I never understand. To tell me beautiful stories about something I never got.
I’m not a child anymore and I thought I was done with that question.
But now at 29: I’ve taken to looking at the sky as we once did. Wonder at its breadth. How vast it is. How we will never get to speak again meet again.
-Look, mom… The sky is an ocean.
-Oh? What is its name?
-I don’t know… but it is one.
-Do you want to name it?
-Why not? Why don’t you give it a name?
-Because it already has one, and I don’t want to change it… even if I think it was named wrong.
-That’s my Aggie… Always thinking of others… even the sky.