In her 20's (around 1940-45) - so pretty.
In the '70s
One of the things that Grandma and Grandpa always did together - the dishes.
Grandma with my aunt, who looks SO much like her.
A poem by my sister Jennifer. (Originally written for my grandfather, but the sentiment is the same, so I'm sure she would forgive me the liberty of using it for this sad event as well.)
The sun moves steadily through its motions
the way we rise, wash our faces, wash towels--
still moving, whether we want to or not
because we don’t know how to stop
without being too final. I say again;
My Grandmother is gone;
and when she was here, she thought of us
and we could have heard her words.
We go on without each other.
This is the miracle and the sadness: we go on.
This is the senselessness and the promise: we continue
with our feet on the ground and our love
winging around us in great white clouds.
We act in memoriam;
we act for the unimagined future.
There is no one to teach us to grieve.
Sometimes, sleep-deprived, loss sends us askew
and other times we speak brilliantly, live brilliantly, forget how things pass.
We loved you, we keep loving you
and the other breathing beings passing by us,
and other breathing beings passing by.
We love you, Grandma. We miss you.