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My grandma meant a lot to me.  She reached into the dark place where I
was lost and brought me into the light.  After my sister died in childhood
I went quiet.  You see she died on my birthday.  I dwelled in an imaginary
world, a fantasy world where I felt safe.  But, grandma refused to let me
stay there, she bought me a journal and special pen and told me to write
my pain," write your pain," she said.  I did and do, did she know that she 
was creating a writer.  Over tea in fancy cups we would read my words
often with tears.  She inspired me to write more and more, to share my
words, "write it, write it dear, for the world to read," and I did and still do.
When grandma died at ninety-four I was broken and shattered.  She meant
everything to me. I was asked to do the eulogy for her and on the day of
her funeral I stood in the church trembling.  My three pages of paper written
fluttered away and I was frozen.  Then, I heard a whisper, "you don't need
the papers," and I began talking.  The words poured out and when I finished
I heard the weeping ...

 the snow is falling
on the cemetery tombs 
                     one word seen grandma 

____________________________
February 16, 2023


Poetry/Haibun/Thank You Grandma
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1525-838-16
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France

Written for the Premiere contest, It Means A Lot To Me
sponsor, Regina McIntosh, Judged 03/04/2023

Seventh Place

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