The courage my mother had went with her, and is with her still: rock from New England quarried; now granite in a granite hill.
The golden brooch my mother wore she left behind for me to wear; I have nothing I treasure more: yet, it is something I could spare. Oh, if instead she’d left to me.
The thing she took into the grave!that courage like a rock, which she had no more need of and I have.
What would be the best description of the theme of the poem above
Memory
Regret
A desire for something more
Rejection