I remember her wrinkles
the way her mouth drew up
just before a smile
the way she sang off tune
and loved a red convertible
and how one time she trapped a skunk
that was getting into her bird seed
and let him go
without getting sprayed
how we listened with amazement
and laughed
at the stubborn eighty-year-old woman
battling woodland creatures
and winning
how I always cry when we
sing her favorite song in church
God, I miss her
How Great Thou Art
how great was the woman who loved us
who was so amazing
that even a skunk knew not to spray her
grandma
tablecloth queen
i moved a table into the kitchen
covered it with a tablecloth
and thought, this feels right
realizing later
that grandma covered her kitchen table
how i remember her white, wrinkled fingers
reaching for the mayonnaise
or ‘dressing’ as she called it
her fingers etched with hard work and mischief
how we’d sit on a Saturday afternoon and eat lunch
just sandwiches, chips, and pickles
and it felt like everything in life was alright
i eat my sandwich now and remember her
Christmas is gone, and she is too
but the table remains
and i sit here at my tableclothed table
eating my pickle
feeling like a queen
and honoring one
Happy New Year!! 🥳
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, check out my poetry book Walking in Cemeteries available for purchase here.
Poem: Dear Grandma
Dear Grandma,
I miss you
I think of you everyday
your loud laughter
your eye-crinkle smile
even your house
that smelled a certain way
the holidays are near
I want to show I care
I want to know that you’d be proud
I want to feel like you’re here
I want someone
to throw wrapping paper
I want someone
to squeeze me so tight it hurts
I want the fake snow-flake decals
on every single window
It doesn’t feel like Christmas
now that you’re gone, grandma…
it feels like a big hole is missing
that place that used to exist
the place where Christmas used to be
I imagine it sucked out like a giant vacuum
a void, a black hole
a darkness that feels so sad
and so angry
so empty
so empty
It makes me mad
that you’re not here
to see the years past
you won’t get the family bulletin
a summary of the year
of life’s triumphs
and heart-breaks
Instead we drag on
we trudge behind time
like lost little sheep
we labor to it
we are slaves to it
we worship it
but we can’t do anything
there’s nothing I can do about you being gone
I’d know what you’d say
you’d laugh and say something like,
“Trust God, and in him, all things are possible.
And what are you worrying about anyway?
I’m with him. And that’s as it should be…”
But it feels so sad, Grandma…
so hopeless,
without you.
Happy Mother’s Day, Grandma…I Miss You
I’ve been sitting here for the last half an hour on Wikipedia reading about Reba McEntire, about her recent divorce, her relationship with Kelly Clarkson, and the plot to Reba’s show, Malibu Country, which got cancelled about three years ago.
I haven’t suddenly become obsessed with Reba McEntire, (although I’ve always liked country music,) I’m stalling.
A year ago today, May 8th, we lost someone special to us in our family. My grandmother, Dorothy, passed away from cancer. Today is Mother’s Day, but I’ll never get to say hello to her again.
Which is why…the stalling. I know I want to write something to honor her, but I don’t know where to begin. With all the poems I wrote about her in the past year? With our last conversation? The words of Reba McEntire’s song, “What Do You Say” keeps repeating itself in my head.
“What do you say in a moment like this? When you can’t find the words to tell it like it is?”
My heart breaks a little. What do you say?
Dear Grandma,
I miss you.
Love, Amanda
There really isn’t much more to say. I said it all before in the poems I wrote for her: For Grandma, Not Goodbye, Baseball Memories, Up and Up, and Big Picture.
My sister, Anna, me and Grandma in the back seat of the car on some road trip, over ten years ago; laughing and being goofy.
P.S. I remember the last time we spoke, Grandma, I made you laugh. I told you something that Lilly had said, and I made you laugh. You were in pain, but my last moment with you…I made you laugh. One day, I’ll type out that conversation. I’ll put it in a memoir and tell everyone how much your house smelled like you, how it felt so quiet, and cold with you down for the count, and everyone wondering, “Is it time?”
But no, one spring afternoon at the end of April, while you were lying on the couch, too weak to get up, I made you laugh. And it warms my heart like nothing else.
I love you, Grandma. Happy Mother’s Day.
Poem: “For Grandma”
My family and I lost someone very special to us this month; my grandma of 88 years, passed away Friday, May 8th. While words don’t really do her justice – (I’ve never had this problem before!) It certainly doesn’t hurt to try.
So, I wrote a poem to honor her, which I read at her memorial service. Afterwards, everyone came up and told me how great it was, how “perfect” it was and fitting for her. But inside I felt empty. A part of me was pleased that everyone liked it, but I didn’t feel like I deserved it; it wasn’t good enough, it didn’t feel complete. But I think it was because, in this case, words can never really express how someone was in life, how much they mean to you, how much you ache and feel sorrow because they are gone.
I think there comes a time (even for a writer) when words just aren’t enough. No matter how much you try. Regardless, my grandma was a beautiful woman inside and out…and I did it to honor her.
(Or if you click on my beautiful picture you can see a larger image and read the poem there.)
It reads:
The woman who loved the color purple
had laughter on her lips
and everywhere she walked and talked
there was a purpose to her quips
She was always there to lend an ear
no judgement in her mind
She was always there for everyone
hard-working, mischievous and kind
The woman who loved to laugh and camp
had compassion in her eyes
She didn’t have to do everything
but by golly, she did try!
She was a woman of many names
and as busy as can be
But no matter what you called her
she was always “Grandma” to me.
A. J. Morse 