Indescribable ache

How do I write of Mother's Day

when I'm not sure I know how to breathe?

I look at pictures on paper, 

or digital captures on the computer monitor, 

or images preserved only in the filing system in my mind, 

synapses firing fast today.

Yes, I know in years to come 

I will celebrate her on this day, 

and I will rejoice.

I will inhale memories, exhale thanksgiving.

But now, right here, the wound is fresh, 

the tears stinging hot.

The final thing we shared "I love you".

For this year, those words must be enough.