By Jim Koger, for Jeanne Koger, 1944-2009

Mother Goddess, Mother Supreme.
She could sing the Fab jingle
prettier than the woman on tv.
Inhale the intoxicating scent of Fab
to be found on a bath towel,
then add her own twist:
a pantomime retch,
as if the smell of Fab
was nauseating. When she laughed
she lost herself in laughter.
Big wet rolling tears. The family dog
was always drawn to her,
always followed her, as did I.
She had more kindness and life in her
than any other person on earth. And fire.
Once, when we had been warned
but wouldn’t listen, she stopped the car,
ordered us bickering kids to the curb,
and left a stinging handprint on my thigh.
Smoldering reminder of God’s wrath.
When I was older, we became friends.
I came to know her as a person,
know her strengths and weaknesses.
She was not good
at going with the flow or following along.
That was her strength, or one of them.
A fiercely independent mind
paired with a limitless capacity
for love and kindness
in a life lived as a work in progress.
Always questioning, always seeking,
and never quite satisfied, or so it seemed,
until the end, when it became clear,
to me at least, she had lived exactly
as she intended. She looked back on her life
with pride, and when she passed, she was
not only at peace, she was happy.

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