For Nana

This poem started coming to me while me and Mike were on our way back from Redbank today.  The memorial service is gonna be in the middle of September, at the First Baptist Church in Matawan.  I think I’m gonna read this poem there.

I remember long ago,
sugared blackberries and bowls of Jell-O.
My mom sitting, cutting your hair,
I thought you’d always be there . . .

Days of playing in the basement,
dinner with green beans on white placemats.
Opening Christmas gifts, "This one’s the beets!"
I never thought there’d be a day we couldn’t meet.

When I was ten, you gave me money,
told me, "Go get your ears pierced, Honey."
Till I was eleven, you called me ‘baby.’
I wish you’d call me that again . . . Maybe.

Your favorite song was "In the Mood,"
I loved Ninja Turtles.  "Cowabunga, Dude!"
We had our differences, but in the end,
we were close-knit, both family and friend.

I remember your independence, your will, your strength.
You had a full life, lived to it’s length.
And that’s the best way to live by all rights,
When you’ve gone to the tunnel and reached the white light.

Grandma said you couldn’t get downstairs alone.
You said, "Watch me!" and made it known . . .
That despite all that happened, all that could,
You’d make it through, we just knew that you would.

I love you, Nana, and I just have to cry . . .
because just like you, I hate saying goodbye . . .

8/18/05

Kate Workman