questions for my mom

Mom, do they play the Eagles in heaven?

Is there a heaven?

Are you happy there?

Do you miss us?

Sometimes I see someone who looks like you in the store.

And for a brief moment I wonder how I’d feel if it was actually you.

If you didn’t die, but instead ran away.

Would I be mad that you didn’t want to stay?

Would I be so happy you still exist that I’d forgive you?

Could we pick up where we left off?

You still owe me a birthday lunch at Red Robin, you know?

Would you want to meet your granddaughter?

Would she recognize you from all the pictures in frames around our house?

But then I remember the hollow look in your eyes the last time I saw you.

How you were there but not there

I remember the cold of your hand in mine

The sterile white of the hospital bed

And my stomach churns as I let go of my fantasy and come back to reality

Where the stranger just has curly auburn hair and little else of yours