I am Waiting
By Tom Lagasse
I am waiting
for the call
the one
where you ask
how to get
back home.
Where you ask
about seeing
your father.
You ask
about seeing
your mother.
The first few
times I say
they are dead
that they have
been gone
for a long time,
but you cannot
remember that.
You cannot
remember being
with them
when they died.
Each time it is
like a wound
ripped open.
Now, I tell you
they are away,
back in Vermont.
Your motherly intuition
hears the dishonesty
in my voice.
Somehow you know
this yarn is better
than the truth.
I am waiting
for the call
again tonight
to remind you
of you, to
remind you of
me. To remind
you of who is
in your family.
I am not
waiting. I am
not waiting for
the first day
when there is
not a call,
For the day
when the last
threads are broken.
About The Author,
Tom Lagasse
The photos are of Tom and his mother. Tom and his wife, Teresa, took his mom apple-picking. One year later, she passed away. September 2026 marks her fifth anniversary. Caring for his mom was a family effort, although his father, without complaint, did the most difficult caregiving. Tom’s role was often to comfort her as she grew more confused. At any time during a conversation, Tom could be her father, husband, brother, or son.
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