Remembering

for my Grandma, who passed away fifteen years ago this month. She is always in my heart and mind.

A decade and a half later,
I still remember the love
that shone from your eyes,
the tranquility of your repose;
and the butterfly I found
trapped in the conservatory,
that I set free, then watched,
as it settled on your favourite

rose bush; stilled, as if waiting.

For a time, my heartbeat
had sped faster than the

wings of that little butterfly.
Then, there was only silence,
a connection beyond words,
imprinted forever in memory,
as we spoke about the world
you had left behind;
the journey you were making
and how love binds stronger
than steel and cannot rust.

The funeral itself was distant,

a half smile playing on your face
I imagined; as voices made
little fusses, then faded.
But for me, a decade
and a half later, nothing
has faded. The love still
shines from your eyes;
and I have never had to
ask myself, for how long?

For my grandma.

Who along with so much else,
introduced me to the joy of poetry.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A wonderful poem for your grandmother. The people who taught us how to see the beauty of books, our world. Our blessing, we have known. Thank you dear Beccy for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[h d e rushin]

when my grandpa died, gradma stopped eating. Stopped getting out of bed. Stopped reaching for her favorite Beech Nut Tobacco bag she kept under her mattress./ That was 2008, and ever since I've tried to rationalize love from this southern Baptist tassel bereft of golden apples growing or Hesperides gardens being guarded by dragons. What I had witnessed was poetry; when uncertainty collides with incredulity/ when all of the world is an old wooden house, a wedding, a bridal gown pulled over up over your waist, live chickens, cured hams hanging in the smoke house along with the long stalks of tobacco drying, a porch with a swing with one of the chains broken, a Chinaberry tree, a well of sweet water, the snake that climbed the pecan tree and wouldn't leave, a moon that lit the night up with it's own fire....yes...all of that and this too. the acknowledgement... dana

[Beccy]

Thank you dana, for such an incredibly visual comment. Loss is dealt with in so many ways; but there is only one path of memory, and it is such a precious thing.

[Lorry]

My gran passed away when I was in my twenties and i spent nearly quarter of a century trying to replicate her soup recipe, only to find it out by accident a few years back when it fluttered out my mums recipe book.
She used a whole chicken as stock. I would never have got it in a hundred lifetimes.
I always picture her smiling too, folding her pinny and just being gran.
We never forget them. They never leave us.

[Beccy]

Gosh, a whole chicken! No wonder that recipe eluded you.

Thanks Lorry, and yes, you are right, we never forget them.

[Patricia Wedel]

dearest Beccy... our Grandmas have that peace that passeth understanding.
I remember the last time I saw her and spoke with her... she gave me a Keepsake to remember her. She was very nurturing and still is. Lovely that she showed you the Joy of poetry. tenderly, Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am also reminded here of my dear friend Jane...who back in 1970 introduced me to poetry.
She has since passed on...and we hadn't had contact for so many years...I never was able to share with her how much her influence meant...and what I have done with poetry over the years...I hope she would smile.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

those we love this much never really leave us, do they?
They are imprinted in our lives forever...I still hear my folks speaking to me...we still chat...a couple of my dear friends I lost during the years...they sit with me in my living room and we still discuss old times and new times.
that is enduring love...and this poem recreates that enduring feeling for me.
j.

[emmajoy]

' Then, there was only silence, - a connection beyond words, - imprinted forever in memory, as .. .. '

You've written such beautiful words, Beccy.. full of the gentleness and elegance you own as a woman. Plus, you've written for other people who haven't the means of expressing similar emotions, times, looks, life shared. For that, thank you.. thank you so very much.

[Ana Papaya]

Such a beautiful way to remember her.

[Eilis]

Beccy, this is so touching. Your penultimate stanza offers a real sense of how your grandma made you feel, and how, even after leaving this world behind, she remains connected in her own way and smiling down on you. A forever presence.

My husband's grandmother passed away the day that I learned I was pregnant with my first child. I was closer to her than I ever was to my biological grandparents, so it was a bittersweet moment for me. But, I have always felt that my daughter inherited many of her traits, and who she is carries on in spite of her bodily absence.

This a beautiful tribute to the woman who brought poetry into your life--and many other wonderful things I am sure. She would be proud indeed to read your words and to know how deeply her life impacted yours. Thank you for sharing this.

[Beccy]

Thank you Eilis. It was Grandma, (on my father's side,) who introduced me to poetry. From when I was very young, she would read the English Romantics and the Welsh Ballad Poets to me; and even though she left Wales at quite a young age, her voice had a lovely, lilting quality that I can still recall.

Over the years she amassed quite a large collection of books, mostly poetry, all of which came to me when she passed, and I treasure them all. Particularly the very first poetry books she came to own (bought for her by her father,) a two volume 1800 London printed edition of Lyrical ballads, which features the poem she loved the best, 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,' and which is also one of my favourite reads.

[Eilis]

What a lovely collection, Beccy. And such a meaningful inheritance. I studied Lyrical Ballads extensively in college and it’s remained a favorite for me. Must be amazing to have such a treasured copy.