What Now? (A poem)

What Now?

The house is far too quiet,
There's no music to turn down.
The laundry hamper's empty,
There's no socks lying around. 
No snacks inside the pantry,
No wrappers on the floor, 
There's no one here who needs me,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

No messes here to clean up,
No lessons left to teach.
No boo boos that need kisses,
No shelves that can't be reached.
No homework to be checked,
No lists and rules and chores.
There's nothing left for me to do,
I'm not a mother anymore.

Three toothbrushes in the bathroom,
But only two of us live here.
But you aren't away at college,
You aren't living somewhere near.
You won't need help with groceries,
Or tips on how to score.  
You don't need me now for anything,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

No more stockings to be stuffed,
No more birthday dinners made.
The sound of your voice in my head,
Will slowly start to fade. 
Memories of how you left,
Still hurt me to the core.
Each day is a reminder,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

I still have lots of love to share,
Some advice I'd like to give.
I wasn't ready to say good-bye,
You had so much life to live.
They say God must have needed you,
But I can't understand what for. 
He took away our only child,
I'm not a mother anymore. 

There will be no wedding dance,
I won't see you say "I do." 
I'll never be a grandma,
And spoil a child or two. 
I guess we never know
What the future has in store...
But I do know one thing,
I'm not a mother anymore.

-Teena M. Hauxwell-Finn
April 19, 2013