Good Ol Grams

Two weeks ago tonight, G's great-grandma and my paternal grandma, Louise Miller, peacefully died at the good  age of 92. As I sat through her funeral ten days ago, I couldn't help but concentrate on this poem that I heard over a decade ago and found it, in so many ways, a fitting way to recall the sweet things about my Grams.

Perfection Wasted by John Updike

And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,

Being with Grams, in any of her three  homes, was peaceful. She had a wonderful way of making you feel as if everything was going to be okay. She made you feel secure with her loving touch....soft, clean sheets, hot waffles, and a good bubble bath...what else did a girl need?

which took a whole life to develop and market —

Grams endured a lot in her life, yet she rarely complained...instead she expected everyone else to get over their issues and live joyfully, just as she had

the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,

it truly is strange sitting in a funeral facing someone who has left this world knowing that a part of them is still in you
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone.

Grams was the first I told over the phone that I was pregnant with G. Her response? Classic! "Well, everybody better get happy. There's nothing else you can do about it!"

The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. 

So many good memories, but I will never forget her wonderful scent. Two years ago, my cousin, Sally and I were shopping when I came across the best candles. I bought ten and told Sally to smell them. She wrinkled her nose and said, "They smell like Grams." They do, delightfully so. Eucalyptus, coffee, leather,Dial soap and night cream...

The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.

Grams, you are already very missed. I love you.

Elmer and Louise Miller (great-grandparents)

With Grams in November 2010