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Holding Hands (An Ode to my Grandmother)
You were an artist
Your hands sculpted hair into wild patterns
back when beehives and the Beatles were the biggest thing around
You made your living with a pair of scissors in your grasp
Your hands cradled me at my birth
holding me ever so gently
caressing my tiny head,
a second mother to me
Your hand held mine as you lead me down the drive way
you would stop and say "be your best, do your best, and act your best"
then you would continue the walk reciting the Lord's prayer along the way
As I climbed onto the bus, I would look back and see you waving goodbye and mouthing, "I love you"
You have overcome many challenges in your life
You have outlived most of you friends
You have beaten cancer
You fought hard and never gave up
And even now, when your arthritic hands clutch an old photo of someone you loved, you wait for the day you can see your husband again
You were always there for me and still are now
You have gone through hell and back
providing wisdom, courage, and love
And here on the Eve of your 78th birthday
I want to say I will hold your hand until I cannot hold it any more.
I love you
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I wrote this poem for my Grandmother for her 78th birthday. She has been my hero in my life and was always there for me. This was my way of thanking her, even if it isn't much.