She Was the Beginning

I didn’t go to her funeral.

Too many faces I no longer knew.

Too many stories

that stopped reaching for me

once my mother closed the door

and didn’t look back.

But I cried.

Quietly.

Unexpectedly.

Not for the memories—

though I had a few.

Not for the woman—

though I’m sure, once, she held me close.

I cried

because even though I barely knew her,

she was the beginning.

When my mother was still forming in her womb,

her eggs were already forming too—

which means my grandmother

carried three generations inside her body:

herself,

my mother,

and the beginnings of me and my sister.

She held us all.

Without knowing.

Without fanfare.

Just by being a woman

in the quiet miracle of becoming.

Her womb was the key—

to my life,

to my daughter’s,

to every heartbeat that followed hers.

Grief came late.

It came quietly.

It came not from loss,

but from lineage.

From the ache of what could’ve been

had silence not grown so loud between us.

I don’t owe anyone my presence.

But I owe her this poem.

A small thread in the larger story,

pulling her back into light

from the shadows of estrangement.

She was the beginning.

And even though I never got to say goodbye,

I’m learning now

how to say thank you.

---

Author’s Note:

This poem was born from a journaling prompt that asked, “What has grief taught you?” At first, I thought I’d write about my father. But somewhere between the lines, I found myself mourning my grandmother—the woman who once helped raise me, who stirred dinners on the stove while my parents worked, who became a memory long before she became a loss.

We drifted apart—my mother made sure of that. Still, when she passed, I cried. Not just for what was, but for what could’ve been. And for the quiet truth that I carry in my own body now: she once carried me too. Not directly—but deeply. Her body held the seed of a lineage that now lives in my daughter.

This is the goodbye I never gave her. This is the thank you I never knew I needed.

This piece was inspired by a journaling series hosted by Josefina H. You can find more daily prompts for the month of May.

---

If this poem resonated with you, leave a heart, share it with someone navigating their own quiet grief, or leave a tip to support a mother writing her way through memory and motherhood.