The Greeter
by Kathleen HighamMother always wanted to work
I'll be a greeter, she said
She was seventy years old
I thought she should rest instead.
It didn't matter what I thought
This had become her goal
She wanted to be a greeter
My Mother, a precious soul.
There was certainly no doubt
She greeted everyone around
Then one day she slipped away
Without the slightest sound.
Often when I pray to God
My most personal request
That my Mother, the greeter
Is having a lovely rest.
God knows a heart is broken
When He brings to me a Mother
Then beautiful words He gives me
For she is like no other.
Even though I never meet them
I see them in their child
Eyes full of love look to me
Tears come, I'm reconciled.
My Mother is in Heaven
And the greeter she will be
She's there to greet your Mother
Someday you and I will see.
When at last we follow them
At peace, a collective sigh
Then all the Mothers greet us
From His mansion in the sky.
This poem was a finalist in the
September 2008 poetry contest
