"Ninety-three years seem long But life is short - How youth seems strong But life is short - How you love and give, Life is still short - How "is" a few minutes ago Became a "was" Oh, life is so short."
I wrote this minutes before my grandfather died. It's sad that he went in this pandemic time. It's heart wrenching that we live on the same island yet separated by different region, province, municipality. So near yet so far. And we couldn't get into him and see him being burried.
her grandmother stood at the window in the kitchen
the corners of her mouth turned up into an unconscious slight smile at the sight of a spinning yellow blur under the big oak in the middle of the pasture surrounded by green grasses wonderous hues of wildflowers
she quietly called out to grandad come see this
the lanky cowboy sauntered in from the breezeway with his umpteenth cup of coffee peered at the blur of yellow
opened the side door stepped out on the deck beside the metal glider and called out in his smooth baritone voice
dressed in smocked yellow lawn white lace patent leather
up to her shins in spring grasses
slowing her spin she turned toward her name
her face radiant she took a wobbly step or two then broke into an off kilter run arms stretched out before her
he took a few long strides bent his tall body low offering a bent knee wide open arms
she flew into them with all her might knowing she would be caught rough housed with and given a wickereye
from the window her grandmother took it all in sighed said to herself hold this dear hold this snapshot of the soul
my granddad and i had a love-love-andmore-love based relationship. he’s my greatest hero and the man John Wayne wished he was in real life. we worshiped each other and i will forever and all ways n always hold him close in my heart. what a lucky girl i’ve been!
Joy alike to mine residest in the wet smile of that granddad with whose son every stranger wishest to play with and giggle with Joy alike to mine residest in the eyes of that goon whom approached thee with a wish of disappearing his misery Joy alike to mine residest in those those sculptures who were freed after the perennial to get broken Joy alike to mine residest in those drizzles departest who from the cloud,their master for good A joy,brought to me by thee,unrelatable and unreasonable, when showest understanding and trust, there assures though no tyrst, something that blooms out of broken pieces, drenched in love ever and ever
Above all constancies,there's one common and constant to all that which gives happiness, name it.
I sat on my hard, green footstool, still, in my grandma's front room, musing over the warm madeira crumbs on my blue-veined white plate.
I climbed up onto my granddad's chair, as familiar as the aroma of his St. Bruno flakes, infused into the dark promise of his worn, warm desk, impatient for his return.
I'm waiting still.
My paternal granddad and grandma died when I was a teenager. My childhood memories are peppered by visits to their home in Tonbridge and in Catford. My son wore his wedding ring at his wedding last week. Good to have continuity.
counting down 10 [sighing thoughts, aching fingernails] 9 [ugh where do i go now] 8 [falling apart...] 7 [my eyes are slowly blinking now] 6 [at the sight of your frail broken body] 5 [the quiet beeping next to you] 4 [my own heart is picking up] 3 [oh god oh god oh god] 2 [the beeping is rising the beeping is rising] 1 [i'm crying now] **silence
Love you Granddad. You mean the world to me, and you left. I love you so so so much.