Here's a willow for your thoughts
After a long and confusing road, you aren't with us anymore.
After a lifetime where you never seemed to mind not knowing all the steps, you aren't near us anymore.
"Don't mourn," you would have simpered with a smile. As if your voice is somehow there again...
But still, we're selfish things.
...too ignorant to celebrate, too impractical to cry.
Miscelaneous gaps in all the time spent together. But you were there, watching over us slowly growing you in your living room, in your kitchen, in your front yard catching cold-blooded things, in your orange groves full of beautiful, wonderful, magical things. Groves and possibilities that seemed to go on forever when we were younger.
In the end, I bet double or nothing, you'll remember it all too.
I'd bet double or nothing.
"Try to understand." We try, but we're just too human today. Try to harbor the emptiness in the raindrops from these stormy, lonely eyes. Try to hold the showers and lightning and thunder back from tearing worlds apart.
But we're just too human...
Okay, fair enough - we won't cry. Not too much. Just, give us a little while to put our humanness, our weakness, our selfishness away. Give us a little space to pack all those memories away in safe, neat little boxes - like the ones you kept the games in. Bottle them in neat little bottles like the ones you kept fresh the orange juice in.
And when it's said and done, there'll be a celebration. With people laughing and everyone sharing and all of us knowing that, for a while, we were blessed. That you were always the beautiful, graceful grandmother not so many of us were so blessed as to really have.
But all the same, be patient with us sentient still time-bound beings. Even though you're safe and warm and protected now...
We still long. We still shiver. We still weep.
-RLL
[For all the warm, eternal memories she left with us]
Grandma Marge - December 11, 2005
After a lifetime where you never seemed to mind not knowing all the steps, you aren't near us anymore.
"Don't mourn," you would have simpered with a smile. As if your voice is somehow there again...
But still, we're selfish things.
...too ignorant to celebrate, too impractical to cry.
Miscelaneous gaps in all the time spent together. But you were there, watching over us slowly growing you in your living room, in your kitchen, in your front yard catching cold-blooded things, in your orange groves full of beautiful, wonderful, magical things. Groves and possibilities that seemed to go on forever when we were younger.
In the end, I bet double or nothing, you'll remember it all too.
I'd bet double or nothing.
"Try to understand." We try, but we're just too human today. Try to harbor the emptiness in the raindrops from these stormy, lonely eyes. Try to hold the showers and lightning and thunder back from tearing worlds apart.
But we're just too human...
Okay, fair enough - we won't cry. Not too much. Just, give us a little while to put our humanness, our weakness, our selfishness away. Give us a little space to pack all those memories away in safe, neat little boxes - like the ones you kept the games in. Bottle them in neat little bottles like the ones you kept fresh the orange juice in.
And when it's said and done, there'll be a celebration. With people laughing and everyone sharing and all of us knowing that, for a while, we were blessed. That you were always the beautiful, graceful grandmother not so many of us were so blessed as to really have.
But all the same, be patient with us sentient still time-bound beings. Even though you're safe and warm and protected now...
We still long. We still shiver. We still weep.
-RLL
[For all the warm, eternal memories she left with us]
Grandma Marge - December 11, 2005
2 Thought(s):
Beautiful, as usual.
...too human to be beautiful.
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