She sat across the room
Hands that once made elaborate lace
Now shaking unceasingly
Her eyes looked out to me
Drawing me in with a grin that spoke secrets
Where her words were now failing
As she traveled from world to world
Reality to dream to delusion
So fluidly she must have felt like the water
Now dripping from the table where
Her unsteady hand had knocked it
My heart reached out to catch her
But like that water
Drip, drip, dripping
She trickled through
Would knowing I’d never hold her again
Have changed my mind?
Kept me tethered?
Held me back?
Did she realize the love I held?
The gratitude I felt?
The awe she inspired in me?
Just by being my…grandma
That word somehow too small to hold her entirety
She saw with an artist’s eye
Created with a mother’s hand
Heard with a musician’s ear
We accept these days as days that will come
We know we cannot be the deciders
Still, why did time not stop when her heart did?
How did I know before knowing?
How did my body feel before the telling?
Where do I go from here?
She and I shared more than I ever cared to admit
Temper, Stubbornness, Sarcasm
Laughing heartily, shouting loudly, singing harmoniously
How did I not realize what a gift she had?
What we truly shared in
Vision, form, rhythm, rhyme
Or the release of it all
At the appropriate time
She got me
I got her
I hear the faucet dripping and I’m reminded
Of the glass clinging to the edge of the table
That once touched my grandmother’s hand
I reach for the hand and find only the
Drip, drip, dripping of water
My hand shaking in the darkness
Heart trembling in the realization
Shifting from nightmare to delusion to reality
I see the path she walked before me
All the truths illuminated in our shared love
As I walk through her early years I see through
The windows of memories she drew the curtains
To peer in through
Flip through photos, letters, poems, still frames
Later on, I glance through doorways cracked
Hear her laughter through the walls
Smell her workroom in the scratchy bunny she sewed for me
I walk further still to sit in rooms of reminiscence
Listening to her stories, plucking out tunes by her side
Developing an ear and a heart for music with her guidance
On I go, watching her fall into her chair
Prop those once active legs up to rest and reflect
Work those puzzles until the hands and mind made it
Too much of a struggle
Further on and on, through talks I tried to block out
Her being ready, not wishing to be the last to go
Feeling pleased with all that she had in life
So with a deep breath I come back
To this moment in the dark
Reaching out for something that will never be external again
Inviting it all to