Grandma

Heads up, this is the poem I wrote and read for my grandmother’s funeral. I was really close to her, so I chose this poem to demonstrate relationships in my life.

If you asked me to,

I couldn’t pinpoint one specific memory

Playing in HD over and over.

But snippets here and there,

Each just a second or two,

Those do.

I remember the tilapia she would get at Red Lobster,

The strawberry crepes at Bob Evans.

I remember her padding around in the morning making coffee -

Black, no cream or sugar.

I remember her laughing when I said

“I love you Grahamcracker,”

And the sound of her voice when she would reply,

“And I love you too, my littlest granddaughter.”

I remember the warmth of her voice

Greeting me at SFO as I ran to give her a hug,

And the meals we always had at Max’s right after.

I remember the smell of her perfume,

The feeling of her arms when I gave her a hug.

I can still hear the tremble in her voice

Saying hello as she climbed into the car

In front of the Carlyle. 

I remember her smile

And the way she would laugh;

The click of her bracelets,

The dangle of all the heavy earrings.

The lipstick she always had on hand,

The smell of her hair just after she had it done

I remember fighting with my brother about sitting next to her,

How smug I would feel cuddled up next to her.

I remember her winks,

The funny little comments.

I remember how hard it was to get in the car,

5:00 o’clock in the morning on the days we had to leave,

Watching her figure grow smaller and smaller.

If anyone asked, I couldn’t pinpoint any one memory.

But the wealth of the moments dancing around in my head

Are worth so much more than one single memory.