Mamma's Last Request
by Michele T. Fry C 1990
(To my son Nathan upon his High School graduation)

As I looked down in Mamma's casket, grief began to take me,
I felt her grasp on my lapels, and she began to shake me.
She said she had forgot to say the most important thing,
And now I'd better listen hard to her last whispering.

She plead: “You've got to live a really good life, son."
I heard her . . . though her mute lips never stirred.
"You dry these funeral tears up in just a little while,
And henceforth do not ever be deterred.”

She flashed across my mind's eye all the millions who have died
so people coming after could be free.
“The living need to verify that theirs were worthy dreams –
That Happiness can come of Liberty.”

 

Dead soldiers rose en masse and joined her plea.
I bowed my head and fell on bended knee.
“The fact you’re born on this green Earth beats all the odds, son,
Life’s all you have, your greatest gift from me.
Now don’t you waste a minute of it griping and complaining.
The primal sin’s to live ungratefully.”
Awareness dawned how Mamma always minimized our pain,
No matter what came up for us to do.
Her mission clear: someone must prove
“the good life” is good for me and you.
To lay down all unnecessary struggles.
To walk away from any needless grief.
My Mamma’s life was lived conscientiously this way . . . . .
And now she’s gone and put that job on me.
She knows I’ll miss her, and I’ll cry for Mamma now and then.
My tears will let her know that I still care.
But she passed a torch to me today.
Said “Run with this religiously . . . . .
To make each day a Really Good Day.