- Grandmother -

I once read a story about a man who’d talked about his loved one at her funeral.
He had said that everyone has the same thing written on their tombstone,
two dates:
Birth-Death
And he said the only thing that we all have is a dash.
That dash represents life,
represents how the person lived.
My grandmother didn’t have the best of dashes,
but I think it made her a better person.
When I was 5 or 6,
my grandmother always used to show me her false teeth.
I from then on associated her with false teeth.
It was funny.
She was the single person besides my parents that had came to see me every time I was at the hospital for as long as I can remember.
It was caring.
One time she brought me a robe because I didn’t like wearing the dress thingies at the hospital.
It was kind.
When we came down there one year,
every day I was there,
she’d sit with me on the porch and ask me how it was going,
I’d sip from my cup of coffee and say ‘great’,
because I couldn’t say anything else.
We’d sit there and talk about her work,
my school,
her day,
my day,
the day.
It was perfect.
I came to visit her earlier this year,
she looked tired,
she looked weak,
she looked sad.
It was sad.
But now she is not here,
to share that funny time,
or that caring thought,
or a kind thought,
or a perfect time,
or a sad time.
She’s not in pain any longer though.
Nor is she sad,
nor mad,
nor tired,
nor weak,
she’s happy.
I’ve always hated talking about people in the past tense.
Its bad.
Its not fair to that person,
because her spirit and well being is still here in our hearts,
with us,
forever.
I Love You Grandma.


© Copyright Brandon St. Germaine, 2003