For Gammy. I will miss you forever.
You are the flicker in the corner of my eye.
Rows and rows of sunflowers taller than me.
Roast chicken in the oven.
You are Sunny D and High C and all the other things
our mother wouldn’t let us have.
You are the young grandmother amongst my friends.
You are THE grandmother amongst my friends.
You are the smell of suntan lotion and fresh-cut roses.
You are pool noodles and tan legs and big sunglasses.
The breeze along the saltwater canals in Palm Coast
when we thought we were losing you
all those years ago.
You are coffee and sweets and dessert after dinner. Always.
A stubborn insistence, a lingering,
I know I too often took for granted.
You are the bright white lace-up tennis shoes
you ran or walked in most mornings for years.
The first person to show me the importance of a ritual.
The importance of flotation devices.
You are humble pleasures and just because’s.
Supermarket daisies in your vases.
Dandelion puff wishes and cards with your elegant handwriting.
You are the firecrackers we lit in your backyard
every summer holiday.
Passionate and sharp and sometimes sudden.
A crack of life as loud as lightening,
even in the depths of your sickness.
You are eyes closed in every picture from smiling too hard.
Joy, knowing, and warmth stretching cheek to cheek.
It makes others feel special. It has always made me feel special.
It reaches your eyes because it comes from your heart.
You are the animals that line your Facebook feed.
Post after post of need and help.
I often avert my eyes to helpless creatures’ suffering.
But you would adopt them all if you could.
You are birthday celebrations and candles.
You are leftovers afterwards for days –
always enough to feed an army.
Worth the comfort to you of knowing
your grandchildren will never go starving.
I know you knew the taste of hunger.
You are long, lazy walks to the rodeo along the dirt roads
near your old house with Ron.
Florida heat and stickiness as thick as your love.
Your hand holding mine all the way there and back
while we picked weeds I thought were flowers.
You let me.
You are blonde hair you used to refuse to let grey.
I asked you about it once and you gave me some
sassy, mischievous response.
Sassy and mischievous would have been
perfect middle names for you.
You are art and painting and dirty brushes.
Oil and acrylic stains on your washcloths in your kitchen.
Landscapes and still lifes and dogs napping in beds
suddenly alive at your fingertips.
Details others often miss. ¬¬
You are shopping trips to St. Augustine.
Fried rice in the food court.
Starched white blouses and button ups in your shopping bags.
Bread with oil and chocolate samplings in the spices store.
You are a sunny, bright-blue December morning
watching the Christmas parade in the mall parking lot.
Standing and waving from truck beds.
Cheeks pink from cold instead of sun for once.
You are sleepovers on Monday nights while my father
is deployed so my mother can get some rest.
Black and white Shirley Temple movies.
Judy Garland and Fred Astaire.
You are the following morning drives to school
where I was always tempted to ask if I could just
stay home with you another day.
But I knew you would have said yes every time.
You are gold jewelry and enamel bracelets
you let me wear stacked on my arm.
Visits to the Clinique counter and lipstick samples.
Dress up and make-believe in your closest.
You are long car rides to West Virginia.
Snacking on sunflower seeds and sugar babies
in the backseat.
Stops at Cracker Barrel along the way.
You are Christmas cookies and Easter eggs.
Decorations for every holiday.
There is not a family tradition we have without you.
Who will ensure we keep them up now?
You are the very essence of the
meaning of your name in several languages.
“Alma” means “soul” – and that you were.
You are my love of blue and white and water.
My ability to make a decent floral arrangement.
My work ethic, my generosity, my giving spirit.
You are my small things with great love.
Who and where will we host the holidays?
What will become of the rose bush in your front yard
That you tend to?
Who is your husband without you?
Who are we all without you?
You are the matriarch of our family.
The cornerstone of our love.
The common denominator.
If you must leave us,
then please promise you’ll stay in other ways.
Please promise there will be sunflowers
and coffee and dessert.
Please promise there will be warm breezes
and firecrackers in the summer.
Please promise there will be art and animals
and family and the other extraordinary
things that moved your heart.
And thus changed ours.
If you can make these promises,
we will do our best to live with what comes next.
Remembering you every step of the way.
Missing you with every breath.
Go gently now knowing
we will never be the same again.
Your life the definition of meaning.
Your heart the definition of what is
good and pure in this world.
This is who you are –
(and will always be) –
to me, Gammy.
small things with great love 