"Call me right when it happens."

This is what I told my mom just now.
My grandmother is slowly passing away in my mother's living room.
She's certainly old (94) and definitely ready.
But it's always hard to say good-bye for real.
:::::

I started writing this poem about my grandma when I was homesick and living in Switzerland back in '03 and finished it just right now:::

a muffled whistle and a jigsaw puzzle,
and a book I could always read again.
a tire swing and a parfait pie,
an alligator cup in my hand.

dominoes and skip-bos,
and American Movie Classics.
you bathed me and you sang to me,
growing up, as i was fragile.

a bloody toe in a baking pan,
the shovel of disaster.
lots of love and forgiveness,
wrecking trucks in the pasture.

snapping peas in patio rockers,
picking pecans with my hands.
rollerskating, driveway circles,
infinity in our hands.

you were blessed to be loved twice,
by two kind and loving men.
i am hurt to think you gone,
but richer to have you mine.

~~~~

i hope she understands how much it all meant to me.