My Grandmother lost her battle with cancer Sunday evening. My aunt found two things in her purse of significance that she thought I should know about. One was the poem I wrote when her son, my dad passed away. The other was a poem she’d found somewhere and copied. My cousin Ashley, the poet in the family is going to read that one on Wednesday. As for me, I was asked to write a poem for my grandma, that she would want me too and my mom suggested that I celebrate not mourn her.
A friend sent me this quote: “Rather than mourn the absence of the flame, let us celebrate how brightly it glowed.”
I tried to incorporate some humor into this and perhaps you have to have been there to appreciate this, but I have to read this on Wednesday and I would appreciate feedback. ( I guess this is where I warn that all of the unneccessary comma’s are for me so that when I’m standing up there trying not to cry and be nervous, that I’ll remember to pause and breathe. )
Memories of the past rush through my mind,
I try to recapture them, hold them close and rewind
To a time and place that doesn’t hold fears
When illness and sadness slowly disappears.
I remember: Gin and not of the drinking sort
Playing cards became a new kind of sport
Crazy eights, Go fish, War and Rummy
Grandma was always the first to yell rummy- dummy!
She taught us to play solitaire in three different ways
Then Sorry, Parcheesi and Yahtzee were the craze
She taught some of us, mainly me, the ethics in losing
And when we were done, she could be caught in her rocker snoozing.
And although she wasn’t wealthy, she sure wasn’t poor
her gifts didn’t come from riches, they came from so much more.
It was her kindness, her wisdom, her style and grace
That made her one of a kind, a rarity, an ace.
Because she took us all in and placed us under her wing
Whether you were blood or brought to her by a wedding ring
It didn’t matter to her from where you came
You became a part of her just the same
And that part lives on in you and me
If only in our memories
We each have them, one of a kind
She’s not someone we can leave behind.
What she did and said came straight from her heart
And if we hold her in ours, we’ll never be apart
And as this poem draws to the end
We should celebrate the life of a mother, sister, grandmother, aunt and friend.
I can still hear her voice loud and clear
Come on listen, I’m sure you’ll hear
She’ll crook her finger right this way
And tell us to wipe our tears away.
She’d tell us we’d make an awful sight
To, straighten up and fly right!