(written prior to first Christmas spent without my grown children)

I told him
I didn't 
want
him to think
he wasn't
enough,
I 
wanted
them, too.
People
who
didn't 
exist
when we
fell in love
now 
pieces of our heart
walking about
outside of us.
My friends hurt,
too
Husbands, gone.
Children, gone, 
and not
just
across
the country
Siblings, gone.
People
left out,
excluded,
no money
for
presents
Unbelievers
taunted, 
accused 
of trying
to take
Christmas
from us
in places
where
excess
which has
nothing
to do
with You
takes place.  
I've
been given 
so much
and
my shame
humanity's shame
is
we want 
that
which 
we cannot
have.
I pray
for courage
to make this
the best
holiday
I can
for 
the best friend
I've ever had
in this life.
I look
out my 
bedroom window
and see
the tea olives
blooming
Shrubbery
my mother
told me
to plant
by the window,
by the door,
for the
sweet scent
and of course
we do
what 
our mothers 
tell us.
I am
reminded
of her
strength
her losses
widowed young
carrying on
still blooming
and 
telling me
to do
the same
with the 
sweet scent
of hope.
I hope
for the
revelation
of
the time
when time
no longer 
is counted
and
goodbyes
and
I miss yous
are
no longer.