Delaying .... ????

I think I am just trying to avoid getting into the nitty gritty of the play, so, I thought I would just post something of my poetry.  Do not reprint without my express permission first.  Hopefully one day these poems will be published in a collection, until then, I hope someone enjoys them. 
 
They were written while going through the process of caring for my Mom, then losing her, and then grieving.  If it is ever published I hope it will be called Living Through the Dying.
 
Mommy is Ailing 
By Henrietta Asher Handy
 
When did it happen?
When did I become the adult?
I never expected to be so.
You were always the one to make it better.
You were always the one who had the answers to life’s questions.
You answered, “Because I’m the Mommy.”
Now I am the one with the answers and you with the questions.
You look to me for decisions to keep you safe.
The world has changed beyond your understanding,
But not your comprehension:
It is familiar to you and yet so strange.
 
I look into your eyes and wonder,
Will I be so bold and tenacious at your age?
Or will I give in to what besets me?
Will there be anyone there for me to make the decisions,
To bring the medications to keep me alive when I cannot remember,
To soothe the worries of moments forgotten;
Of words from others who do not realize how badly they hurt?
I see the trust in you for me and I am afraid.
Am I truly worth such a gift you give to me?
So I inhale the wondrous memories of what is now,
Exhaling the sorrows to come.
 
I have heard people say in voices soft,
“Mommy is ailing.”
I have seen their fears and their shame.
I have seen them yell at the forgetfulness of time’s passing,
Forgetting that once such arms held and comforted.
Yes Mommy, you are ailing,
But I am proud to stand here with you.
I will answer the questions and thousand times a thousand and more
Merely because you did so for me.
I will love you just simply because you are who you are:
You are the Mommy.