My Darling Mum, when we unexpectedly lost you

I suddenly inherited the sacred and exhausting task

of preservation, not by choice, not out of desire

but necessity, as I became the archivist of your life

the keeper of your traces, the reluctant guardian of

a thousand intangible things that once made you

but I never wanted this job, I just want you back

And yet, in your absence, here I am, carefully

preserving, sifting, cataloguing, and sometimes

even curating the fragments you left behind

because when my heart was shattered, what

remains are the pieces of your life I cling to

the objects, the stories, the memories, that prove

you were here, that you mattered, that you loved

I may be an imperfect archivist, but I am doing

the only thing I can, keeping you here, in whatever

way I know how, and carrying on with the work of

your love you nurtured, now it is my turn to tend

in the end, this is not just about archiving you

but it is also about archiving love itself, in my heart

in my actions, in the way I conserve your legacy

I never asked for this role, I would give it up in

a heartbeat if it meant you could walk back into

our life, but since it is not possible, I will continue

this reluctant archiving, with tears in my eyes

but also with gratitude, because these remnants

I guard, are not just evidence of your absence

but are proof of your presence, a life fully lived