NaPoWriMo Day 7! The Divinity of Spots

Happy NaPoWriMo! One whole week of writing poems every single day complete! Here is today's poem: The Divinity of Spots 

Mom, I can not figure out what the ladybugs mean. The morning after you went into the hospital I noticed them crawling on the blinds of my bedroom window, the lamp shade, the basin of the bathroom sink, the counter in the kitchen. I took their presence as a sign, those mascots of luck, that you would be healed. When you needed to have a machine push the air into your rebellious lungs, I prayed to the freckled wings of the ladybugs, making deities of them, and they obliged. The last really good day you sat up in the recliner reading the hospital lunch menu, your glasses crooked, I thanked the divinity of those spots for giving your body back. It took eleven days for me to realize my mistake, the last five of which I spent sleeping atop a yoga mat on the floor of your hospice room. It was there, beside your bed, where your son discovered a tiny feather, held it up, pinched between two fingers, hoping for a miracle. I, bitter from the betrayal of the ladybugs, told him it was too small to belong to an angel. I think I was trying to teach him what I had only just learned: that you should not make a god out of every beautiful thing that will let you pray to it. So mom, what does it mean that it's been nearly three months since your passing and I am still finding shells of ladybugs at the foot of my bed?