To Grandma, After Your Death

Photo Credit: Drago Renteria

We Sing the Song of You
To Grandma, After Your Death

For such a remarkable woman
Your death was rather quiet.
You slowly released your mind and,
Two months later, 
Your body.

Two months of sitting at your bedside
Offering you ever smaller and smaller spoonfuls
Of soft food.
Reasoning with you was less and less useful
And blessedly, we joined you in your reality,
Singing your songs until eventually,
You made only sounds.
Single notes of familiar tunes,
Over and over.

So we narrated the mundane-
Your favorite tv show, the food we’d be feeding you.
Named the family members visiting
As you no longer opened your eyes
And stopped singing your notes.

You retreated into a place 
We couldn’t reach so we just 
Held you in a cocoon of our love
Reflecting back to you the century of love
You so generously gave.
We watched your breaths,
Combed your white-blond hair,
Stroked your hands.
We midwifed your one hundred and eight year-old body
As you slowly shed it, spread your wings,
And alighted to the next plane.

The moment of your death had no fanfare, no drama.
You just, didn’t take the next breath. 

Your body completed its work housing you
And you were gone—onto other things
But also so very here.
Every pop! of the champagne cork, 
Every dahlia I see, every piece of your jewelry I don
Carries your name, your stories and your legacy 
To me and all of us who knew and loved you.
A vast collection of loved ones sing
The song of you.
It’s in the beating of our hearts,
The lullabies we sing our babies to sleep with,
The music we dance to. 
You are the rhythm that resonates 
In and through us.