The Month She Kept

Hi my dear friend,

It's September…
the month my mom passed away.
And every year, as the air begins to shift,
I find myself thinking of her.

It's the month when missing her
becomes part of the season.
When I feel her everywhere,
and in everything.

But sometimes I wonder 
if leaving in September,
even in the most unexpected way,
was also her quiet act
to annoy my dad.

A little revenge for 
betraying her.

Because September 
is his birthday month.

And here in Latvia, 
it holds Father's Day 
as well.

But now the month that 
should have been my father's…
belongs to her.

And I imagine she's pleased.
It would suit her so well.

Because what most didn't know 
about my mother is that 
she carried her anger 
without fear.

It never came unprovoked,
and her words were never 
meant to belittle.

Still, she'd say with a knowing look,
“don't pull the lion by its 
whiskers.”

She knew that if she needed to, 
she could pounce in a second…
To defend those she loved.
Or to stand her ground.

That was my mom.

She loved deeply.
And she was a devoted wife.
Until one day my dad wounded her 
in a way no whisker-pulling 
ever could.

And that…
She never forgot.

So I'm not surprised her soul 
chose September as her 
final month.

Because no matter how much 
I love my father,
Septembers will forever 
circle back to her.

To my mom.

So here we are, my friend.
Another September, 
another reminder.

And yet…
I picture her smiling at my father, 
whispering softly into his ear,
“See… I told you not to hurt me.
Now even your birthday 
belongs to me.”

With love,
Elina