How is Grandma?

How is Grandma, they whisper
behind cupped hands and restless eyes
peering around my shoulders
as if she might get up
like so many yesterdays
and ask them if they'd like some treat.
How is Grandma, they ask
as if they had a moment
in their busy lives 
to spare for this old woman
who has vanished from their
daily prayers
and nightly conversations
as if the thought of illness
the thought of being frail
is contagious.
How is Grandma, they sigh
not really wanting to know
the care, the time
invested in bringing dignity
to a once dignified woman 
that moved mountains
back before her children learned
to walk,
but now that she needs to relearn
to walk
they fly off to other nests.
How is Grandma?
Do you really want to know?
Come visit her for a moment, then
and bring the joy of family
to her achingly empty view.
How is Grandma, they wonder
without slowing the pace of their day
as if they might assauge their guilt
with well-placed concern
and furrowed brow.

How is Grandma, I wonder
when I can not give her all that she needs
when she needs so little...
the simple love and caring of her family.