Mystery

Several weeks before you died,

We were sitting on the sofa, side by side,

You looked at me and sort of jokingly said,

You know, mom, I'm a genius.

You often claimed to be a genius in a light-hearted way,

It was an amusing thing that you would say;

We laughed and we smiled,

And I replied, that could be,

Thinking that you had always been remarkable to me.

You next said, as an aside,

That geniuses often don't live very long lives;

I acknowledged that this was true,

But didn't make any connection with you.

You were not ill at ease,

It was just an observation made to me;

I wish that I had asked you then,

If you had some premonition.

But when your son is healthy and  alive,

You don't consider that he might die;

Could it be that your soul knew,

The transition you would shortly be going through?

There are many mysteries that the universe holds,

And I long to have answers told,

I pray for divine wisdom and insight,

So I may surrender into the light,

And be at peace with life's questions,

As I journey towards you and heaven.