Mom died on Monday.
It was sudden,
it was eternal.
She was vivid and beautiful and passionate
and terrified of being alone;she was never alone
and always lonely.
Mom loved completely though rarely
rested in it, remained with it, held by it;
love was a memory.
Love fueled her fierce protection
of her children, the defense
of her grandchildren, especially
of the ones who also found love’s solidity
elusive.
Mom was brilliant and generous and thoughtful
and selfish,
ready to give away her things, her time,
her opinions,
at once lavishing praise and
the cutting remark,
mercurial.
Mom knew God, strained to know God
and doubted every encounter;
yet she persisted, constant in
her faith.
Mom’s faith, first aroused by love,
the love of her life,
who left her too soon with
four young children and a lifetime
of grief, yet
love never failed.
Today we bury Suzanne Jean Albright Oliver
Mom’s ashes share space with the ashes
of her lover,
reunited in dust and dirt, the earth
rejoices and gives birth to earth’s solidity,
solidity of love—
accompanied, present, constant, revealed—
unfailing, love.
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