Friday, February 7, 2014


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
Of where
Of when

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

And writing
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
And now…

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
Live within


  1. What a beautiful remembrance of a remarkable woman. Wonderful, Jessie!

    1. Thank you. She lives on in our hearts and memories...

  2. Oh, hon...what a wonderful tribute to your Grandma. You shared so much with her as your paths crossed and ran together. The realizations of traits you shared with your Grandma: the love of and talent for music and writing, the fiery temperment and deep inner strength, brought me a lump in my throuat and joy in my heart.

  3. This was beautiful, Jessie. Mom would have loved it, just as she loved you.

    1. Thank you. She certainly knew how to speak my language. So grateful for the many healthy, happy, and heartfelt memories we all shared with her.