I Never Really Knew Her

My breath floated silently toward Heaven.

I watched as it disappeared

Blending seamlessly with the cloud filled sky.

With upturned collar

I stood with loved ones feeling completely alone;

Such a strange feeling this is.

I had known her for almost fifty years,

But suddenly came to realize…

I scarcely knew her at all.

Self-absorbed with my life, my own family,

Thinking she would always be there

I never thought to ask who she was,

What her life was like,

Even where she born;

It just never occurred to me to ask

And never came up in conversation.

My picture of her had always been the same,

White hair, as white as newly fallen snow,

Her cheek, soft and smooth to the kiss,

Kind and joyful, yet quiet as a mouse;

Always taking a backseat to the love of her life.

Sadly, her time has now passed

Taking with it the story that was her.

I am left to gather up snippets,

Like those tossed on the cutting room floor

Selectively shared second hand.

My chance has passed to hear her story

In the truth that can only come from living it.

No fault can be placed, but on me

So on me alone the fault must lie.

By divine retribution, I stand here,

In the icy chill of winter to bid farewell

To one I loved dearly,

More dearly than she would ever know

And with profound sadness I’ve come to realize

…That I never really knew her at all.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

In Memorial

She is gone now,

Weeks have passed,

Shock is no more.

Resigned to the fact that we won’t see her again,

We won’t share coffee around the kitchen table,

Won’t share meals at the holidays,

Won’t see the warm smile,

Won’t see the pride in her eyes at our little accomplishments.

Grandmothers are someone taken for granted,

They were always there,

From our beginning,

Naively we think that they will never leave.

Still something deep in our hearts knows  its a lie,

We lie to ourselves because its easier than facing the truth.

The status quo easier to take than the pain,

But nothing can stay the same.

Parents become Grandparents,

Children, parents,

The eternal cycle repeats like a palindrome.

I don’t pretend to know what lay beyond this fragile life,

We pray to, hope for, obsess about an unseen God,

Holding steadfast to our faith,

Grasping with clenched fists to the fabric of what’s left of our existence,

Knowing that in time, we to, will meet our maker,

Whomever we conceive our maker to be.

In this, our soul finds consolation,

Finding peace in our belief in the unknowable,

Finding relief in the belief that this world is just the beginning,

That eternal life is not a myth,

But instead a promise of something greater,

Something greater than anything created in our mortal imaginations.

In this hope,

We find comfort.

In this hope,

We find peace.

As we pay our final respects,

In this hope,

You will not be forgotten.

Instead,

In this hope of heaven,

We say goodbye.