I know i’ve shared a lot of my photos of flowers, but because this is a rose, I thought it was only fitting.
It has been just over 7 years since my grandmother Rosemary, who many called Rose or Rosie, passed away from liver cancer. She was an integral part of my family, keeping us all together during the holidays. She was selfless and humble and everything that I could ever hope to be. I can’t believe it was that long ago. The memory of her passing, how her hand felt as her life ended and the sight of simultaneous crying from my entire family standing around her deathbed, is still very fresh in my mind. I honestly think that there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t remember her in some way and I don’t mind that. She deserves to never be forgotten.
My grandmother is one of the people who impacted who I am by the impression she left on me during her life and thereafter. I would not be who I am today without her. I would not be who I am today without a great number of people either. I’m sure everyone feels this way to some degree. I sat down in my little green chair after work today and wrote the following poem. I hope you can relate to this in some way:
“Through the Revolving Door”
People come & go in our lives,
one by one through the revolving door,
shaping, changing, defining who we are.
So many have come & gone while few have stayed.
Many memories float around in my conscience,
appearing randomly at a sight, sound, feeling,
triggers linked to the past.
Driving, I pass a green truck,
and in that instant I am the teenager,
young and freckled,
betrayed, innocence stolen,
lives forever changed,
fresh secrets scar the heart
& soil the delicate white silk of the mind.
Walking, a cool breeze stirring the long strands of dirty blonde hair,
I pass the man, who once was the boy I knew years ago,
first love, lost now, but the smile is the same.
Shopping for groceries,
I wait behind a petite, frail old woman,
hair the color of timber ashes,
permed & short.
I am a child again,
watching the motion of her worn, yet soft hands,
carefully piercing the fabric of a blue & white quilt,
the sound of a soap opera filling the room.
My heart stings with grief & longing
as I realize you’re gone,
7 years & a month ago.
I move on,
as we all do eventually.
Forever different because of the lives that came & went,
trespassed & stayed,
hiding in the crevices of the beating muscle thriving in my chest.
I would be a different me.
You brought tears enough to fill a jar,
& smiles brighter than the rays of the sun.
People come & go,
yet here I am,
continuing on the path of finding me.