I remember it like yesterday
Sitting on your lap, rocking back and forth
Being lulled to sleep by your scent and the quiet television
Grandpa and the dog snoring into a deep sleep
Cutting out paper dolls and dressing them
Watching cooking shows and attempting to cook like Bobby Flay or Rachel Ray,
Regis and Kelly,
And reading books.
Holidays were always in order,
Something like a magazine
But as I grew older
As I grew wiser
I knew something was wrong
I knew you were sick
a monster called
Diabetes.
Overweight, but you had no will
For you were secretly depressed
Had the world broken your heart too, Grandma?
Sicker you got,
Hospital trips, Doctor visits
I always though the angels you told me about as a child were watching over you;
that they wouldn't take you from me.
Things grew less innocent
Lost their magazine touch
I never knew you would leave me, Grandma.
I never knew it could all end so quickly.
But I guess you're with angels now
The ones you told me about when I was small.
RIP Sharon Joyce Satterfield. February 24, 2004.