Doctor Grandma

I have many memories of staying overnight in my Dutch grandparents’ house & going to the Dutch Reformed church w/ them Sunday morning. Occasionally they would take either my sister or me, one at a time, for an “overnight”. This will be revised, but it captures it:

Sleeping in bed with my Dutch Grandma,

I lay awake, hearing her breathe,

Grandpa in his bed, one room away,

I gave birth to you

gave you life,

but God gave you your soul.

You used to cry

whenever I left

or was even out of your sight,

Now you are doing things,

moving to places

I’ve never dreamed

or even thought of.

Feel free to fly

my Jasmine bird,

feel free to become

your own true self,

But know that now,

it is me missing you,

and my love is always

within your heart.

cfblack, 9-19-19

I try to imagine, being you,

born in the roaring twenties,

Taking out seams to make clothes fit

during the Great Depression.

Your parents quit school at age 12,

to earn money to help out at home,

They didn’t want you to suffer their fate,

so no matter what,

you felt blessed.

You met my father at age 16,

he was 4 years older than you,

and from that day on,

your life became

whatever it took to advance HIS career.

You never balanced a checkbook,

never worked outside the home,

Your friends were his academic colleagues,

never a friend of your own.

You never advanced past high school,

while he earned a PhD,

No one thought in the “baby boom”

a woman could advance herself.

My father’s career took off

and the poor boy became a Dean,

while you kept house, raised kids, and cleaned,

gave dinner parties on weekends.

But once he died so early,

at 50, was suddenly gone,

His friends dropped you like a hot potato,

and were not there for you.

Your life did not foster within you

a sense of your own strength,

Your life was focused on his success,

and now you were alone.

The next years were all a blur

as you turned to alcohol,

your kids all had to fend for themselves

to make it as they could.

To succeed in your recovery,

as any addict knows,

you have to center on yourself

because you have one goal.

At age 63 you did this,

and never once relapsed,

this, in itself, showed us all

how truly strong you were.

Mothering is never perfect,

neither mine, nor yours,

One thing that I always knew

was that I was deeply loved.

It helps me to imagine

all the things that you went through,

I hope you had enough time

to develop who you were,

Our lives were very different,

but what I learned from you

is a woman can do anything

she sets her own mind to.

I balance my own checkbook,

I work outside the home,

so another thing you taught me

is to have a backup plan.

Mother/Daughter connections

are always complicated,

I also know the Love we share

continues unabated.

cfblack    05-17-2018

She was the oldest

She was the oldest,

mother to her siblings,

her mother 16 at her birth,

Two brothers, 4 sisters,

born after her,

She mothered them

as she grew,

when that handsome service man came along,

she picked up and left what she knew,

Being together as long as they were,

sharing a lifetime of years,

raising 6 children and seeing theirs too,

sharing much laughter, and tears,

But what is left when he is gone,

your house, and all that you saved?

when everything familiar to you,

has all been given away,

Unable to visit or travel

or go to a funeral,

Your brothers pass before you,

two sisters now are gone,

You hear him talking with you now,

His voice is calling you home,

You hear him saying your work here is done,

so “Come on Alice, let’s go!”

cfblack 04-03-2018

No one knows the memories

you carry in your heart,

over 60 years of them,

never apart,

your love starting fresh

on a country road

as a serviceman offered you a ride,

letters written during WWII

promises made and kept,

He came to see you before his mother

a new life begun together,

the birth of 6 children,

too many grandkids to count,

weddings and holiday gatherings,

Bodies turning old

but spirit the same,

you shared this journey together,

no one knows the memories,

but we see them in teardrops falling.

cfblack  10-22-2017

Death is not pretty,

It is not meant to be,

The body decomposes

naturally,

The process begins

before we are gone,

We stop nourishing it

before we go home,

Loved ones surround us

at our bedside,

There is no hiding

what is happening inside,

Skin wrinkles and withers

face sunken and hollow,

We are giving up this life

and leaving tomorrow,

Death is not pretty

and so we see,

what is left is the shell

where our soul used to be,

As the process unfolds

we leave body behind,

The spirit is freed!

because our God is kind,

So don’t worry for me

as I leave you here,

for my spirit is soaring

to other spheres,

You will see me again

in a very short time,

We are always, forever,

united as one.

cfblack  10-22-2017