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One More Poem on My Birthday...Apr 29 '06 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line A Loving Dedication to a Sweet, Gentle Welshman & a Short, Spunky Little Irish Woman.
Passing the Torch Dedicated to the memory of Georgia Fay Davis When one is triggered, I'm flooded with them... The tingling scent of Russian Tea, syrup and sausage; Glowing fireflies in the pierced jar on the bedside table; Rich Kansas soil filled with sticky earthworms...and the mouth-watering vegetables it grew; Fiery sibling fights over who could push the blade mower; Pounding out off-key melodies on their piano; Spying on tender forehead kisses and knowing smiles... But the miles have multiplied and now new memories of Days with my Grandparents have divided and lessened Leaving gaps of emptiness on the calendar. Where is Grandpa with the book and open lap - The girl within me asks as storytime comes and goes. Where is Grandma with the delicious rhubarb pie when mealtime comes? As a mirror comes into view, the girl is hushed and before me I see an aging face. Time, that unstoppable avalanche only God can halt, Has answered my question. As the light fades in their eyes and Heaven rolls out their welcome mats, Grandpa & Grandma pass their torches to another sweet couple. Dad and Mom are no more and now the little boy I love is having his own unforgettable moments. But the avalanche is crashing toward me and there are still new memories to be made At the home of the new Great Grandparents. Background Note: The grandmother with the rhubarb pie died on October 5, 2004, less than a month before we moved up from Florida to be near my grandparents. Once again, I missed a grandparent's funeral due to distance and financial restraints (the plane ticket would have cost $1,000 that we most decidedly didn't have). So it wasn't until shortly after moving here, when I visited her grave, that I truly accepted her passing. She suffered from many years of polio-related health problems, was partially blind, had congestive heart failure and asthma, and eventually ceased breathing at the age of 83. Unlike my Grandpa Rolando (whose poem is my first Writer's Corner entry), my grandparents Davis were very close to me and, as you can tell, made countless precious memories for me to cherish forever. Grandpa Davis still remains as a wonderful, wise, soft-spoken treasure in the lives of my family, and I hope you are blessed with such a wonderful person in your own life. May God be With You on this Day, Valetta  |
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