This work was created from the perspective of an adult child reflecting on his paternal grandmother. Truth in sample, this is a portrait of my own grandmother. The work below becomes quite personal, such is completely at your discretion.

Your chosen memories, themes, and stories shape the tone an tenor of the finished poem.

A Forever Remembrance of MargeryB

Ginger snaps – for Cathy and me you always had,
Morning breakfast was toasted cheese.
Recalling the pine paneling, your dolls, and Irish lilt,
A simple love, to me you were comfort, a Grammy unique. 

That day, when at age four I almost sank to the bottom
After cavorting away at camp at Highland Lake.
Stories told – you pushed the bad water out,
and breathed the good air in.  In unknowing thanks
I sputtered back, never forgetting my earthly angel,
to whom I never gave enough, in credit or in thanks. 

Please forgive me – in adolescence I lost track,
birthdays of yours missed – a taste for
toasted cheese not quite the same.
Still your love always felt present,
like the crisp snap of ginger, ever fresh.

You were my predecessor as writer, chronicling the
old Irish enclave of Libbytown in Portland, Maine.
Quaint expression for print hid true stories untold.
Those among your direct family. The worklessness,
the alcohol.  Such banished from your home, indelible -
the imprint on my young Dad and his dad, my Boompa.

Partially shielded from such places was I in youth,
only to re-live a portion as I spread wings. Such is the way
of quiet; to enable shadow-casting, to defer healing.
Upon my touching the underlying cause, manifesting the illness –
A sense of new connection to you was revealed.

Allowing us in love sincere to stand for the photo,
Cathy and I are grown. You holding your walker,  
Our Boompa standing with my mom and dad.
A portrait of six, a starry perfection sublime. 

Though never a smoker, your precious lungs –
A struggle during the latter.  You did see my
two children – ‘great’ long enough to surface your
Irish, the two were “cunnin”, your blessing bestowed in time.

Then later the hospital staff was to wheel you again,
From your room down to the OR,
To repeat the procedure pulmonary –
This time you told Boompa, please no. 

From the funeral home, I looked down to see
You - lying in peace and without pain. Fully knowing thanks
for the saving, the toasted cheese and the
ginger snaps – all written on my heart forever.