Strangers speak to me
Just empty words of condolence
Meaningless beyond explanation
They knew her, maybe
Though not as I
She was half of me
The better half, I think
As I glance across the room
To her widower
I notice his attempt to care
So each person can leave
Thinking she was happily married
A few know otherwise
They know of a struggling family
They know blame is shared
My chest fills with guilt
For horrible things done and said
My stomach fills with regret
For great things left undone, unsaid
He motions toward me
I wear the fakest smile of my life
Because this is no father of mine
As I cross the room, I remember
I was my mother’s daughter
I am my mother’s daughter