how to mourn someone you never knew by Liz Catalano 1st Place Winner, Fr. Callan Poetry Contest my name comes from a dead woman a lead woman a heavy-feet woman who still seems to claim my pronouns and signatures. spunk woman, pizzazz woman, woman who smoked too many cigarettes. she left two sons in two worlds, two little girls, and me. I never knew her, never had the chance. I am told I am just like her but how would I know, all she left me was a necklace (in the safe bank, for safekeeping) and my name. as a child, I prayed to her. I believed in angels back then, believed that my namesake and I could communicate, relate to the difficulties of my father and having a name that’s too long. always she was silent, even when I was alone.
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