She was always a ghost
I never knew her to be young
Alabaster skin
Hair a drift of snow
Tall with small bony hands
A round childish nose
And horned-rimmed glasses
She drunk hot tea
From tireless mugs
Nibbled demurely
Throughout the day
Seasoned everything
With salt exclusively
=
She had violent mood swings
Smiles dimmed by tears consumed in flames
She felt every word spoken
Strait to the marrow
Deeply sensitive
But sometimes terrifyingly cold
I have seen her cruelty
Heard of it in the reflections of her past
Through my mother
Never one to let go of a grudge
Impossibly stubborn
Manipulative
=
As a kid we’d go to the grocery store
Everyday walking a couple of miles
To the mall to browse for hours
At home we played dominos and cards
She raised me mostly
In that way
I have thought of her as a mother too
=
For the bad there was also plenty of good
She would listen to me talk for hours
To recordings of my terrible singing
Read my inappropriate adolescent stories
Always full of lavish compliments
For those she loved
They were adored through every vice
Exalted even in crime
Always she loved my crushes and closest friends
Unconditionally even after things had soured
I think she understood
That I have never
Stopped loving anyone
=
She was Irish Catholic
Sent all of her children to Catholic school
When I became Buddhist
She never challenged my decision
Only listened to my philosophies
I do not know if she accepted it
But I never felt rejected or condemned
=
My grandmother was inappropriate
Especially when she got older
She’d ask questions
Of strangers that you don’t even ask of friends
My husband frequently became her dead son
She saw demons, heard voices in her bedroom
(Then again so did I)
She kept ghosts in the top of her closest
An old box filled with black and white photos
And letters from her sons and her brother
In times of war
She kept their uniforms and their metals
=
In the end it was hard to see her
Dementia
Left her locked inside of memories
Glimpses of a past so dark
Nothing could ever penetrate
The medicine tamed her
Made her innocuously sweet
Still she could not hear
My closest confidant
Locked away in places
I could not possibly reach
I missed her even while I held her
=
She saw me
Graduate high school
College
She was there when I got married.
When I got pregnant
I couldn’t wait for her to meet my daughter
She died two days before
I couldn’t travel the 5 hours to the funeral
Already being a week overdue
I never got to say goodbye
Then again how could I?
I would not know the words
That could unbind me
I will never know how to let go
No matter the lifetimes
That stretch between
=
(This is a picture of my grandmother much younger than I knew her. She had my mom in her 40s so. I found this extremely hard to write, I cried through most of it so I am not sure how well its been written or if it makes sense. I have tried for 3 years since she died to express the pain.)
mindlovemisery 