A Gift from the Past
My writing friends, As far as I can remember, the first creative thing I wrote was when I was eleven. My mom and dad and aunt and uncle came back to my aunt and uncle's farmhouse in Ohio, where we were staying for a visit because my Grandma Higley was sick. When they told us kids she had passed, I went upstairs and, for some reason was very determined to write a poem. I did and it was read at the funeral service for my Grandma. Earlier this month, I spent a week with my mom (82) in Findlay, Ohio, to sit with her identical twin sister, my Aunt Marie, in hospice care. Late one afternoon, my cousin told me she had a surprise for me and handed me a folded piece of five-holed lined paper. She said her mom, my aunt, had showed it to her some time ago. My aunt had said that she always meant to give it to me some day, but it meant too much to her to have so she had kept it. It was the original pencil-writ copy of my poem for my Grandma. My aunt passed quietly late that evening, without ever regaining consciousness while my mom and I were there, but she still managed to send me a last gift, the message that you can touch people with your writing in ways you may never know. I've included my poem below. It is pretty simple stuff, but I'm still so glad I wrote it. Grandma We love Grandma, with her hear of gold, Her ginger-bread, which was never cold. Her stories that she always told; Oh, yes, Grandma had a heart of gold. We try not to cry, when we know she is not here, We know she is better way up there. We love her for the things she's given; And hope that she'll have rest in heaven. Keep writing. Your writing matters, and not just to you. Don P.S. If you are interested in the story of my mom's and my aunt's journey through foster care and orphanage in the 30's and how they eventually found both an adoptive family and their biological family, I also helped my mom publish her story on Amazon/Kindle while I was with her. It's called "Surrounded by Love: A Story of Orphans and Family".