• Over the last eleven months
    We have done a lot of
    Wishing
    Praying
    Thinking
    But most of all – Remembering
    Remembering stories like…
    The shot glasses,
    Covered in pink elephants
    And blue poodles,
    We would use
    For soda pop cocktails.
    The nieces and nephews
    Playing “plane crash”
    And calling 911 to report the accident.
    A niece deciding ‘Babe’
    Was a letter short
    So she added an F to the end.
    The big green dictionary
    We would read
    And tell the story
    Of a frog
    And his far away home.
    The dresser drawer
    Filled with stacks
    Of paper, coloring pages,
    Markers, stickers, and more.
    Hours of creating
    ‘Artistic’ messes.
    Sleeping over
    Only to stay up all night
    Watching TV
    And tucking her in,
    Even if she didn’t want that.
    Being promised a gold star
    For clearing my dinner plate.
    I said, “Let’s go,” the moment I was done.
    She had to take me into town,
    All the way to Gold Star Chili
    For a cheese coney, my gold star.
    Reading “The Little Red Hen”
    And doing the voices
    Of the cat, the goose, and the pig.
    Telling stories bout the ornaments
    As they were hung,
    Especially about the naked baby
    Dressed in red ribbon.
    Sneaking into her dining room
    To shake the gifts
    Hidden under the table
    During every “Happy Birthday Jesus” party.
    Hearing her say,
    “Don’t go to the doctor to get your ears checked,”
    As she sat behind her favorite table,
    With its glass top covered in papers.
    This was the longest of all her journeys.
    Treatments, doctors, tests.
    Hurdle after hurdle
    She had to jump.
    My grandmother assured me,
    In the hardest hours,
    That she had said,
    “You can take my hair,
    Just don’t take my mind.
    When I reach that point,
    Just take me.”
    As we gather, I can only pray
    She has reached heaven
    Where she is happy, pain free,
    And her witty, wacky self.
    Watching over us, ensuring
    That at times we will still gather,
    Sit around the kitchen table
    Over homemade stew and bean soup
    Sharing stories, tidbits, tales,
    But most importantly, memories.