OBIT [My Mother's Teeth] — Victoria Chang
My Mother's Teeth - died twice, once in
1965, all pulled out from gum disease.
Once again on August 3, 2015. The
fake teeth sit in a box in the garage.
When she died, I touched them, smelled
them, thought I heard a whimper. I
shoved the teeth into my mouth. But
having two sets of teeth only made me
hungrier. When my mother died, I saw
myself in the mirror, her words around
my mouth, like powder from a donut.
Her last words were in English. She
asked for a Sprite. I wonder whether
her last thought was in Chinese.
I wonder what her last thought was. I
used to think that a dead person's
words die with them. Now I know that
they scatter, looking for meaning to
attach to like a scent. My mother used
to collect orange blossoms in a small
shallow bowl. I pass the tree each
spring. I always knew that grief was
something I could smell. But I didn't
know that it's not actually a noun but a
verb. That it moves.
