Grandmother

For nearly ten long years you have been gone
Yet still in my world you live.

When I pen these words
It is your hands I see writing.
When I speak
It is your voice I so often hear.
When I cry
It is your arms I feel around me.
When I laugh
I know you laugh with me.

I'm glad you are with me, Grandmother, for in my day growing old is something to disdain and to fear. Aging is a disease to be fought with all manner of physical alterations and fervent denial. Women cling to their youth as a child clings to its mother.

But you, Grandmother, have given me a reason to grow old and to glory in it. Educated and eloquent, giving and full of grace, brimming with wisdom and experience I can't envision a more beautiful woman than you are.
Your life's history is recorded in the wrinkles of your skin, in the strands of your soft white curls and in the depths of your eyes.
With rolls of baked goods stored around your middle and age spots on your hands--you have known not only pain and loss, but also joy and abundance.

When I rock my children
I sing with your voice.
When I put them to bed
I pray with your faith.
When I tell them I love them
I feel generations of love.
As I grow old
I am glad of your company.

By: Sarah L. Garriott