It was a long day and now it's night,
you have lived 85 years with your hands held tight.

You have lived a life, provided light and
became many people's flower oh! so bright.

Many people didn't expect this moment, even I couldn't guess it.
But on this day forward, no promises can be made.
I know you dreamt of peace, peace within our family.
Forgive us all, because until the end only a new war was created.

Thank you for all battles that you fought for us,
the ones you won with us, thank you for being with us.

Today is your 31325th day in this vast world, with a long journey within your memories. With broken heart and scattered feelings,
with the cure of the ones who loved you and the wholeness of those you loved.

I know tomorrow might get better, but I'll just hold on to this pain
a little longer... as I wave goodbye and kiss you from afar, I was grateful to be by your side when I was able.

I was and still am! grateful of every inch of you grace and blessing.
It was hard seeing you in pain, though we know one day it'll come... but the bus just came too soon.

Lastly, we promise to achieve our dreams, to continue our passion.
To love our parents, to love our siblings, to love one another as it was your dream before the light turned green.

Farewell, my lola! It was an honor to serve you and love you!
it was an honor to be loved and supported by you.
We will still go on, move on, stay on the ground and
keep our heads high!

But fear not! we promise to bring you memories with us!
To keep your teachings, to appreciate your lectures
and to give our all, just like you did...
I love love love you with all my heart and soul!

My sweet little gran-mire is 94 Years old.
She still works, as the chairwoman of the family trust
- you can call her “Godfather.”

The “frail old lady” is a humorous disguise she dons
to bamboozle the unwitting - think tiger stripes.

Don’t be fooled, or lulled and don’t ever try to BS her.
The business cosmos wheels behind those eyes.
Her heart was replaced with an abacus, centuries ago.
She’s met everyone in the world who matters.
She has body guards and minions.

Tonight there’s a small birthday party
at the Musée Marmottan Monet (museum) in Paris.

When she comes in, the 40 or so guests formed
an impromptu receiving line - so I queued up too.

Stewards regularly pass and I manage to gulp down
two flûtes of champagne while on line (I LOVE Paris).
This has the makings of a great party.

Finally, it was my turn. we cheek kissed (fait la bise).  
I took her small, gloved hand in mine
and it struck me that little white gloves are genius.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I said
inching closer because the music was loud,
“Nothing tops a big-budget party.” I said.
“We agree.” she said with a nod.
“Happy Birthday.” I mouthe.
We la bise again and I moved on so the conga-line could progress.

Ooo! Another steward!

Old woman lying warm on her bed,
never knowed, her life would be so good

Old man holding hands of hers,
reminded her about their past years of love and trust

Children standing next to her bed,
looking at her eyes, smiling with raining eyes

Grand children appreciating grandmama's recepe,
and shared with her,their funny old tales

Her eyes searched for someone more,
there stood at the door with a warm smile,her old good bestie...

My granny loved Banny hens.
They are small but they can be feisty.
Just as was she.

I’m in the dream again:                not the one I had while awake in
the catacombs of St. Callixtus in Rome.  Where the darkness was
so impenetrable that it began to echo.  To look like the mixture of colors
that burst when you rub your eyes too hard for too long.  Like the
neuron rupture before death.  To shape and morph and become liquid.
Where the darkness cobbled itself into a physical form.

Not the dream where                    I kept seeing
flits of my mother out of the corner of my eye.  Behind
                                                                ­                               every street corner.
                                                                ­                   Every turn.  Every tunnel.  
      Reflected in the casts of the bodies in Pompeii.
Mirrored in the waves of the Trevi Fountain.

I’m in the dream where          the soil churned from the bottom to the top.  
                               where          the hand outstretched from the grave.  
                               where          my grandfather clawed his way out and returned to my grandmother﹘sopping wet, covered in thick mud, socks torn, skin sallow and jaundiced, spitting out the wire the embalmers put in his mouth, melting makeup, and ravenously hungry.  And it’s been so
                                                                ­                   long since he was hungry.  

“He came back to me, Taylor,” my grandmother tells me. 
“He came back to me.”
                                        I don’t have the heart to tell her that he’s undead.  
                                        I’m physically unable to spit out those words.
And it’s a dream and it’s a dream and it’s a dream,                   but
it just fits so perfectly.  That he would come back to her.  
That death would not be a barrier.  I can’t explain it.                It just is.  
My grandmother is a shell without him.  
The body that’s missing the limb.  
The body that keeps score.

Night falls like a heavy blanket
As the smell of rain wafts off the pavement,
Wheels of my father’s truck carrying us homeward.
The mountains stand like shadowed specters,
Black against a cloud covered sky,
Moon too shy to peak out from behind
The curtains of leftover moisture.
I hum a choked-up rendition of
Stairway to Heaven that plays across the radio waves.
Tonight, we are driving home from celebrating my grandmother’s
90th birthday.
My soul aches with the joy of sharing this occasion with her
And the sadness of watching as age catches her in life’s race.
I count my blessings that I have been gifted this moment,
For one never knows how many lie around the corner.
She is the most amazing person I’ve had the opportunity to meet.
If I could be granted the rest of my life be spent in her company,
It would still be too short.
Love reminds me that sometimes the best things in life
Are the ones that hurt the most to lose,
Yet I would not trade a moment’s loving her
For an ounce less pain.
It is worth it to love her so completely
For as long as time will let me.

ℑ'𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯 𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢,
𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔩𝔦𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢.

𝔄𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔞𝔡, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥.
𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔞𝔡, 𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔶.

𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤 ℑ 𝔞𝔦𝔫'𝔱 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲, ℑ 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔤𝔞𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔤𝔲𝔶𝔰...𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔶, 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔨𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔤𝔲𝔶𝔰 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯.

𝔗𝔬 𝔪𝔶 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔬 ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶,
       ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 ℑ 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝐼𝒩𝒟𝐸𝒫𝐸𝒩𝒟𝐸𝒩𝒯𝐿𝒴... 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔪𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔯.

Though you are both gone
From this Earth;
There's a gift you gave me
At my birth.

It fills a place
In my heart.
I felt it there
From the start.

You passed to me
Your wisdom, kindness, honesty.
And the passion
For writing poetry.
I cannot tell you
Just what that means.

The flutter of a Butterfly
Will always be
A beautiful sight
And the symbol of your memory
In my soul and in my mind.

In my heart
I will always feel you there,
Because a Grandmother's Love
Is the everlasting gift you shared.

Thank you for your examples & legacy.
Thank you for inspiring me.
Thank you both for sharing your life
Through written words and poetry.
And thank you both for your
Grandmother's Love you left with me.

🦋💜🦋
©KSS 1/22/2021