Sunday, August 11, 2013
Remembering Grandma
August 9, 2013
I'm sitting in the room where I last sat and talked with my grandma.
First time I've been here since she died June 5.
Tonight my grandfather prepared dinner for us, a stunning surprise,
and accidentally set a place for her. An extra chair? he said, surprised
I'd no idea last time would be the last time. The precise moment
when our 36 years together would expire. No sell by date was visible.
Everything good that now happens in my life I connect with her; doing that means
she must still be around. That's the only way days can pass.
August 10, 2013
The pace of patient walking, alongside my Poppa
down the sidewalks of the Upper East Side, she is there
not there, well, sort of there, alongside us
We walk, quiet, slow, as if her cane tapped the pavement
But it doesn't. He breathes in, my eyes try to focus, he says "whew"
And I try. Try not to shout "It's ok, she's right here."
Instead, I whisper "paciencia."
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