'Grandma' by Simone

My Grandma died.
So what does that mean?
It means she lived a life.
A life with all the exuberance and thrill,
Disappointment and despair.
Yet I remember her, standing overlooking the ocean
From a cliff top
With her small white curls lifting out of place on the breeze.
I remember her with her eyes squinting against the sun
And her arm around my shoulder
To keep me from the edge.

My Grandma died.
So what does that mean?
It means her life was full.
She always said ninety was old enough.
She would have been ninety one in a day.
She always lived by her word.
I don't know how I'll tell Pete.
He said you could tell by her face
That she'd embraced every moment
And he saw a glimmer in a her eyes,
A sparkle, a window-
Something a granddaughter doesn't see
Or expect.

My Grandmother died.
So what does that mean?
It means nothing.
She is always with us.
I can think of her easily,
See her face, see her tending her garden,
rhythmically knitting a tiny cardigan,
Making our favourite dinner,
fussing over us,
And Pop.
Pop couldn't have boiled water without Grandma.
Lucky he went first, I guess.

My Grandmother died.
So what does that mean?
No more flower cards for birthdays
And angels for Christmas.
No more shawls on shoulders
To protect us from the wintery night chill.
No more pink, fluffy bathroom accessories
But the memories will last a lifetime- at least ninety years.

I will remember her as a celebration
Of life and love.
That is what it means- a silent remembering-
Her voice, her laughter, her smell, her smile.
I will remember these things
And she will be with me again.