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Miles wind by

December 11, 2009

One of the instigators for me starting up a blog again was the death of my grandmother a few weeks ago. During the drive to and from Ontario with my brother for the funeral, this kept worming its way into my brain. My brother may be the poet in the family, but occasionally I get the itch, too.

Miles Wind By

Miles wind by on my journey
With a coffin waiting at the end.
The grandmother that I knew
First as Mrs. Beattie,
The nice lady with the sunken living room,
The widow who met my widower grandfather
And fell in love all over again.
Christmases at the condo
With tinsel and turtles,
And always remembering that I liked
Licorice  allsorts.

Miles wind by on my journey
With a coffin waiting at the end.
The grandmother that I didn’t know,
Who graduated in her university’s first class
Of occupational therapists
To work at the Hospital for Sick Children,
Who gave it up to become a missionary
To her own people,
Who had a whole family existing only for me
As strangers in pictures on the piano,
Who took up painting on china,
Delicious fruit, flowers so real you could smell them,
And seabirds soaring over
A home by the sea.

Miles wind by on my journey
With a coffin waiting at the end.
The grandmother that everyone knew,
And who knew everyone in her building,
Was still loved by those in her church
Long after she was unable to go,
Cherished as an aunt, a friend,
Touching stories from all those she touched,
Not saccharine sentiment from a condolence card.

Miles wind by on my journey
With a coffin waiting at the end.
And I wonder, when I get there and climb in,
Who will I have been?
And what will I have done?
And will anyone remember?
And will anyone care?

Miles wind by.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. December 12, 2009 12:30 pm

    Moving. Nice work. Sorry for your loss dude.

  2. December 23, 2009 10:18 pm

    I really love this! I was going to say, I’ll print it out for Mom, but then I thought, I don’t need to print stuff for her anymore. Mom & Dad just bought an hp laptop and a printer-copier-scanner. Egad! It’s the seventh sign! They deliberately went with a PC, rather than a Mac, so that I would not be able to help them 😉

    Amazingly amazing poem, my brother! Although, you seem to referring to “two” brothers in the poem, whereas, the way it’s worded, readers would probably think you’re only referring to one brother. You’re in the middle, so you could refer to “my youngest brother” and “my oldest brother.”

    Nit-pickilly yours,

    Your oldest brother ;-P
    (P.S. I smiled at your “home by the sea” reference 🙂

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