Tonight I’ve been talking with my good friend Heather. I am so stressed out and it is so good to get things off my chest. Heather is great because you can talk about something silly like the hatchimal craze…. or something serious like our children’s health issues. Tonight, we talked about how much we would love to talk to our grandmothers just one more time. There is something so wonderful about grandparents. They have lived full lives and have this wisdom that is so far beyond our own understanding. I often look to my only living grandfather for advice and wisdom. When talking with Heather tonight I remembered that in college I wrote several poems about my grandmother. She was such a strong, beautiful woman. I am so thankful that I had 13 years to know her and love her. I would like to share one of the poems here because I feel that it captures who she was accurately. As I am going through so much as a mother now… I would love to just be able to talk about everything with her. After she passed in 1998 she visited me in my dreams. She sat on the edge of my bed and she told me that she was okay. I found such peace in this– and am thankful that she loved me so much. I named my daughter after her and know that Claire has inherited some of her salty attitude. ( I say this lovingly, as her salty attitude was my favorite thing about her). Anyway, here is the poem I wrote for her nearly 10 years ago.
War Veteran’s Wife
She spent most days behind that old apron
making our meals and providing for us.
Her weathered fingers wrinkled like raisins,
gripping the spoon and praying for solace.
Day after day in a house of discord,
protecting us from our drunken father
with her bones as shields but never a sword.
Her tired body we would never bother.
She grew old inside of that same old house.
Rocking back and forth in her chair thinking
about her life as a war veteran’s spouse,
who wasn’t enough to stop his drinking
before he died inside his “Sunday best.”
Leaving behind for her a day of rest.