You Weren't Supposed to Die Like This

Don't you know?
They thought you were simple,

Your own family, who took you out of school
At age 12 and took you

To a witch doctor who said since you wheezed,
You'd be better off five feet underground.

And because you didn't read well or make jokes,
Flirt like your younger sisters,

And had small ankles that often faltered
While walking over the slightest crack,

You were always the subject
Of hushed concerns.

So when the cancer came
Everyone was afraid to tell you,

For fear that the truth would shatter you.
I was called from three thousand miles away

To break your heart
Because no one else

Had the heart to tell you
And because I am your daughter.

But I saw the mother I knew
And the graceful way

You gently lived,
Knowing how to let go of what you didn't need.

So when you started to see images on the walls
That weren't there

You knew it was time.
It was an uncomplicated event,

Transparent and smooth.
You stood up firmly and walked me

To your bedroom
Where you laid down and took off your wedding ring

That you had promised would be mine
When you died.

You smiled and said, This is it.

You were eloquent and powerful.