Lexi’s Skies

(I wrote this for my sister. Today would have been her daughter’s 18th birthday. This is my first poem I have written about her. I never felt I could give Lexi the words she deserved. Please forgive me for not doing the audio for it. I can’t say the words out loud yet.)

Lexi

Her eyes were blue.

Did you know that?

I’ve been trying to capture it

–the color–

for what feels like forever,

even though

she’s only been gone

for seven years now.

She had the bluest of blue eyes.

The kind that make you stop

–and realize–

there is not another blue

quite like hers

to capture.

I send her mother, my sister

photos of the skies

when the world looks especially

blue and especially bright.

I call them Lexi’s Skies

because I’m always trying to remember

her bluest of blue eyes.

“But did they change to gray?”

I asked my sister today.

“No, never, they were always blue.” She replies gently.

And I remember:

a mother never forgets, they never do.

“I’m sorry sissy, I can’t remember,

but even after her stem cell surgery?

Were they always blue?”

“They were always blue.” She replies gently.

Yes, I remember now.

I’ve been trying to find that color

in every brightest sky I can capture.

But how do you capture

a little bit of spunk

a little bit of punk

a whole lot of sweetness

and orneriness

in one color?

You can’t,

I remind myself.

She’s still gone

and the longing for

her bluest of blue eyes

makes my heart ache

and I think of her mother, my sister again.

And I remember:

a mother never forgets, they never do.

And so I send my sister memories

and photos of the skies

–silently trying to repair—

our relationship

as I realize

it got broken in the mix of things.

Because how could we go through

something that hard

and something not get broken?

“I remembered her laugh yesterday.”

I told her mother, my sister happily.

“It was gigantic and it filled up

–every room–

she ever walked in.

I can hear a hint of it

inside my boys’

laughter and cries of delight and merriment.”

Because as a mother now,

I remember just how

a mother never forgets, they never do.

“I once had a dream,”

–when Lexi was very very sick—

I tell her mother, my sister

“that she was a teenager,”

–which she would have been, if she hadn’t gotten sick–

“she was laughing and looking at me

with those bluest of blue eyes,

trying to get me to see

that her love would never leave me.”

Even though

she’s only been gone

for seven years now,

it feels like forever

and I wonder just how

my sister’s heart must ache

every time she thinks of her.

“But I want to remember,” my sister reminds me gently.

And so I send her

photos of

the brightest sky I can capture.

But how do you capture

a little bit of spunk

a little bit of punk

a whole lot of sweetness

and orneriness

in one color?

You can’t,

I remind myself, gently this time.

But I will keep trying.

For her mother, my sister

I will keep trying

to find

that bluest of blue

in the brightest of skies

as I long for Lexi’s eyes,

I remind myself,

a mother never forgets, they never do.

10 Comments

  1. “A mother never forgets, they never do”
    An angel up in the sky, nothing else to say really heartbreaking! No parent should bury a child, totally unfair…time might ease pain but a mother never forgets!

    Liked by 1 person

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