"Dirge without Music" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --- but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

The few Mother's Days after Mom died were truly horrific. The worst was the one right after I got home from living out of state, the first one after my dad remarried, and the first I spent at home after my mother died. Nothing was said about her at all. We weren't supposed to say anything about Mom, because "it would make [stepmother] feel bad." We didn't go to the cemetary or do anything, although my dad guilt-tripped me for not doing anything for the new stepmother. For dinner, we went to my aunt's house, and the new (adult) step-siblings were invited, with their children. Because the stepsiblings were there, there was no room for me at the table. There were place cards, so it was all set out where everyone was to sit, but there was not place card for me. I whispered to my dad that I was left off - could he say something? No - this was about new stepmother and her children. So I got food and sat in the living room by myself, reading the Sunday paper and trying to be quiet while I cried.

My grandfather, bless him a thousand times, was at the table with the other adults, who were laughing and talking, when he looked for me. He asked, "Where's [me]?" Someone must have mumbled something about the living room, because he picked up his plate, came and sat next to me on the couch, and said nice things  about my Mother while we ate together. I will love him forever for this. It's one of the kindest, sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.

Since then, I have decided to skip the day altogether. God and I have a deal: I don't blame him for Mom dying, and he doesn't make me go to church on Sunday. I think this Sunday I will go on a long bike ride and then sew for the rest of the day. I can't wait.