remember all the songs you sang for me

This was written in July of 2023. My mother has since passed, unexpectedly, in March, 2025. Our lullabies will go on & on, they never die, that’s how you and I are.

I am grateful for my memories. I am also thankful for my judgment and discernment. My ability to recognize both the good and bad. The decision to choose which ones to hold and which ones to release.

I spent the past few months exploring the depths of my soul to understand better why I do what I do or why I can’t do what I want to do. And by the way, exploring your past with clarity is like super challenging?! I turned to painting, which allowed me to capture the emotional spectrum of my past in beautiful shades of oil color. Brushstroke by brushstroke, I slowly awaken my inner world.

I woke up this morning at 5 am, like every other day, to sit around, “rot,” read tarot, read my book, color, drink my coffee and dream out my window. I’m not one for much discipline in the mornings anymore. My mornings are for embracing slowness. I treat them like a sweet and sticky piece of caramel candy. I want to process the weird dream from the night before or set an intention for the day, no matter what uncomfortable work meeting looms. When I return to New York in the Fall, I will live with the family I babysit for. I don’t anticipate having many gooey mornings, so I savor each second.

Childhood is complicated. Our society is a bit wrong in the hierarchical assumption that adults are the sole moral compass of their children’s journey. The moment of release arrives when you realize your parents were doing the best they could with what they knew at the time. Healing resides in the ability to forgive. Once you forgive, you no longer need to hold the pain so close to your heart.

It’s Sunday night; we’ve had our dinner and said our prayers. I’m lying in my bed, the door slightly ajar. And the glow from the lampshade outside my room sneaks in. My eyes are closed, but my ears are listening. My mother plays the piano downstairs. Gently, careful not to disturb her angels upstairs, drifting off to sleep. She sounds beautiful but raw. There’s a voice crack, and it’s as if you can hear a tear glide down her cheek.

Goodnight, my angel

Time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you’ve been asking me

I think you know what I’ve been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you

And you should always know

Wherever you may go

No matter where you are

I never will be far away

Goodnight, my angel

Now it’s time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say

Remember all the songs you sang for me

When we went sailing on an emerald bay

And like a boat out on the ocean

I’m rocking you to sleep

The water’s dark

And deep inside this ancient heart

You’ll always be a part of me

Goodnight, my angel

Now it’s time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be

Someday your child may cry

And if you sing this lullabye

Then in your heart

There will always be a part of me

Someday we’ll all be gone

But lullabyes go on and on…

They never die

That’s how you

And I

Will be