two people

 

two people

one from the other

father and daughter

grandfather and my mother

 

i only knew him as an old man

a small patch of grey among the white

behind one ear

 it has been so long i cannot say which ear

 

he sat quietly playing cards (solitaire)

day after day in the same chair

upon the back of an old dart board

mostly deaf and partly blinded

 but kind and glad to speak when spoken to

he told me of the deprssion

and told me what to watch for

decades later i could see this last one comeing

as he said

 

he was patient and loving with people and his garden

small as it was in the backyard in Arizona

he had lived his life

as a gift to those he loved

 

his daughter my mother like him

kind

and patient with people

searching for what she never seemed to grasp

and strangely alone with her books ( her solace )

she read by the hundreds, maybe thousands

and spoke well

was a great cook

and like her father loved her family

 

she used to work all day

 to bake the birthday cake i loved

and spent so many hours

 reading to us in the evening

a selfless gift

 

ironic that she searched so hard and long for God

for surely in her way

she already understood

she showed that

in the way the lived her life for those she loved