The Last Gift
Dad calls to tell me how much
he and Dieter the dachshund
like to nap under the blanket
I gave mom last Christmas
the present she opened
in her hospital room, said
thank you and sent home
with me. What she meant
was that she would never
live to sleep under this blanket.
Would never live to see how
her children’s lives would turn out.
2 thoughts on "The Last Gift"
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I like the honesty in this piece and how the gift has found a new life for which there is gratitude.
This poem is heartbreakingly beautiful. How the blanket moved from person to person (and dog). So rich, so full of longing and reverence.