Guest guest Posted October 30, 2007 Report Share Posted October 30, 2007 Thanks so much for your kindness, Jen. She was definitely one of a kind. My great Aunt (one of her daughters) has a voice like hers. I always wondered why the aged and broken tone in her voice, made me feel at home. As I wrote this, I realized, that it was my great grandmother's aged tone as well. It makes me happy to think of her. I hope those warm memories made your heart feel light. Much love and thanks to you, Tara >Jen <jen wrote: > How lovely your words Tara, and so heartfelt... what a beautiful >feeling you must have when you think of her... love & light ~Jen~ , tara jacoby <tjmassage7777 wrote: > > A little poetry, to warm your hearts. > Wishing you all blessings and love. > xoxo, > Tara > > > > POETRY: > Impressions of a memorable great-grandmother > > > Old house..white. > Tall ceilings..four floors. > Cracked plaster. > Wooden rails. > Creaking boards on the stairs. > Familiar scent. > Scratching on the pane..from a long and pointed branch. > A small dark window, halfway up the steps. > Vintage curtains..used to be white. > They only add to the fright. > Tapping..scratching, against the glass. > Aged furnishings..scattered doilies..dust. > Still, this feels like home. > As long as there's company. > Wouldn't want to be alone. > The smell of heat, from the heavy grid vent. > Brown pattered rug, o'er the linoleum floor..an accent. > The dining area serves as great grandmother's room. > A simple existence..no need for cosmetics or perfume. > Comfortable..in her surroundings. > Walls of faded avocado..oak furnishing. > White sheets on a high, railed bed. > Pillows prop up her head. > A standing tray holds foil covered jars. > A straw stands in the center of each one. > Diabetic candies scattered round. > Stillness of immobility never gets her down. > Always a welcoming smile, for us to see. > The door opens and she spots me. > Running to our favorite Uncle..Bill, her son. > " Uncle Billy..Uncle Billy! " We'd noisily exclaim. > Waving from her bed. > To her side, we happily sped. > With aged wisdom, she'd be waiting..to gently guide. > Interested expression..as she'd inquire on our little lives. > Excited at the chance to brag of all our news. > Acting intelligent, as we spoke of our lessons..at school. > Showing drawings we made, along our trip in the car. > Mom breaks up the drama, as we tell on each other. > Taking out a special box, she calls to our sister. > " Come here, Lisa. " She says. " Let Mom mom brush your hair. " > From the special box, emerges a hairbrush.. > and colored bands for ponytails. > Frail hands make neat, her long and wavy, golden strands. > Hours, she would spend..as contentedly, Lisa sat. > With legs dangling..off the rail less side of the bed. > My brothers and I would get bored..and chase each other through the house. > Wise eyebrows would raise..as our dad furiously, waved his belt. > To no one..would he answer. > Still, he stopped in his tracks, when at him..mom mom hollered. > Our hero..she'd scold him, and say " You kids listen to your mother. " > She said a little birdie told her I'd been fighting with my brother. > Fascinated..my little mind. > Open wide..my little eyes. > Listening perfectly..as she told the story. > " A little blue bird.. " she'd begin, with a loving, > somewhat frail..and broken voice. > " A little blue bird, comes to my window. " She said. > " He sits right over here. > Right on this spot. Do you see? " > I nodded, curiously. > " He tells me when he's been passed the windows of your house. > He tells me, when you've been good..and when you've been naughty. " > He says that you and Ricky have been fighting. > Is that true? " > Amazed..I could only nod my head. > " Where is he? Where's that bluebird? " > In a questioning voice, I said. > Always..the bluebird was either up high in the tree, or off in the distance..flying. > She made him seem almost angelic..a wise and authoritative creature. > When I got home, I looked for him. > For years..I believed her. > I'll never forget..her wise choice of words. > She made me think about my actions. > Never..would she scold or hit. > Creative storytelling, was her tool for teaching us obedience. > So kind natured, and filled with compassion. > Always..I'd look forward, to her lessons. > Very well aged, was she. > With age, however..came frailness. > A bit of coughing..and a chill. > Brought about by a ripe old age..there was no cure. > We came to visit. > At that time, I was almost eleven. > She appeared to be ill, but I knew she was dying. > My dad wanted to go to Noble's Grove. > My mom wanted to stay with her, in case she might need her. > Mom mom insisted that we all go. " Go and have a good time. " . She said. > My brothers ran for the front door, but I walked slowly..instead. > Steadily..my eyes fixed on hers. > She offered me a calming look, which meant she'd be fine. > Then I knew, although she didn't feel so good, she wanted to be alone. > Mom was so worried..throughout the whole trip. > A fearful expression, as she bit her lip. > From a two year old child, mom mom had raised her. > Her own mother took off..and she became like mom mom's daughter. > " Mama. " She sadly whispered. > A look of urgency on her face. > So quickly, she tore from her seatbelt, and flew inside. > When at the old house..at last we arrived. > Grateful..to find her still hanging in there. > " I told you I'd be fine. " > Mom mom smiled, and reassured her. > That night was like any other night that we'd visit. > Though mom mom was growing ill..she just smiled. > " I'm alright. " She assured us. > Each of us had our turn, saying good night. > Up all the creaking steps we kids ran, close together..to deter the fright. > Sleepy..from a long, active day. > No matter how we fought, we could not remain awake. > Wanting to giggle and tell stories..but the sandman..we could not keep at bay. > I fell hard..into a deep sleep. > Warm covers..up to my head. > Not fearful of Fred's fury. Because of mom mom, we were all safe, instead. > In comfort and peace..so sweet, was my sleep. > Suddenly, a comforting sensation. > As if a mothering presence..entered the room. > I calmly sat up on my bed. > A soothing feeling, calmed me..so I lay down instead. > Looking up..I saw someone in white..come in. > Never did the knob turn..the door did not open. > She just walked right through the old, chipped wood. > She spoke with her mind, and told me not to be afraid. > It was mom mom..but mom mom could not walk. > My little mind, did not ponder the connection at all. > I knew it was her, and I felt comforted. > Her spirit form, my sleepy mind did not realize at first. > Once it all made sense..I closed my eyes tight. > Aware of my natural inclination toward fright. > Still, she soothed me..and told me it was alright. > Gentle words, to me she spoke..seated on the side of my bed. > They came not from her voice..but from her head. > Mind communication. > Yet at the time..I was too little to have understood that form of expression. > She told me she was sorry..that she had to go. > She said I was strong, and so she was letting me know. > " I don't want you to cry, or to feel sad. " She said. > " I've lived a long, long time..and now I need rest. " > " You will awaken to loud crying. That's when you will know. " > " Remember that I told you I had to go. " > With eyes closed, I nodded my head. > " I understand..I know that you've been sick. " I said. > She continued, " When you hear crying, you will know that I am gone. " > " Do not be afraid, but stay in your room. " > " Safe in your bed, don't be afraid, and don't come out. " > " Wait till it stops. It will sound sad. Don't let it scare you. " > " When you hear silence, you'll know to come down..that'll be your cue. " > " Okay. " I said. > Then just like that... she left. > Deep into sound sleep..I returned. > Awakened by what I heard. > Loud crying..screaming..wailing..sobbing. > " Mama! Mama!..Oh, no! " Cried my mom. > " Mother! Mother! " Cried Billy..my Uncle. > The sadness carried on..for what seemed like forever > Tragic shrieking, turned to heartfelt..heavy crying. > I felt so bad for them, as in my bed..eyes covered..I was lying. > The desperate sighs lingered. > It woke my youngest brother. > Although oblivious..he joined them. > Then, I remembered her words. > That's when I knew for sure. > Upon the silent stillness..I made my way downstairs. > Grownups spoke of their worry for me. > For through all that racket..I had continued to sleep. > When I peeked around the corner. > I saw everyone was awake..and gathered there. > My mom gripped my shoulders. > With tears in her voice, she said " Honey..Mom mom is dead. " > I remembered her parting words. > I decided they'd need me to be strong, instead. > I made no comment, and toward the sink .. > for a drink of water, I continued to walk. > " What's the matter with you! " My mother screamed. > She called me a horrible child, and shook me. > I flinched, as I thought she might slap my face. > Still, I knew that was the way she was expressing her grief. > I was afraid to speak of mom mom's visit. > I didn't think they'd believe..and I didn't want to be labeled 'crazy'. > Always..I remembered her words. A bit of her intuition has remained with me. > Now and then, when I see a little bluebird, I remember her loving ways. > I think of the morals she so lovingly taught me.. > through the creation of such well crafted and imaginative stories. > Forever..her mark is branded in my mind. > Many years have gone by. Still, I feel no sorrow..nor do I cry. > Sunlight follows close behind her memory. > Never does it fail, to brighten my day. > Mom mom, what a lovely impression you've made. > > > > > > > > By; Tara Jacoby > > > > > > > Hi everyone, > My sister and I have been speaking about my great-grandmother, and > it inspired me to write this poem. She died when she was 93. I was ten. > She lived a very good life. When I think of godliness, and strength, her face comes to mind. She had 11 children! > Two died at birth. > One was hit by a drunk driver at eight years old. > One was scarred for life, by crippling brain damage..when oxygen was not available at the time of birth; My great-grandmother took extra special care of her, as never, could she feed or dress herself. She threw temper tantrums and needed help getting from one part of the house to another. Never was a complaint heard, from my great-grandmother. That child, Genie, died at age thirty, after a doctor prescribed for her, a wrong medication. > One died of a heart attack; as a single woman of 50..who had suffered a stroke ten year prior and became inflicted with dementia. > One died of liver failure after fighting for his country and becoming an alcoholic, as he struggled to recuperate from shell-shock > and the traumas of war. > One lived a good, long life, and died at 80 years old. > Four are left. One of them was born deaf and mute. > My great-grandmother raised him for as long as she could, then > helped him get into a special school, where he could be better understood. > She raised them all well and with special care. > She had so much strength. > No matter the turmoil, she dealt with what God offered her. > She made love into an artwork, when she took in and raised her five grandchildren. Good morals, she taught them..with care and love. > After many episodes of having to care for her them on a whim, when their mother (her daughter-in-law) took off suddenly, to part, for days or weeks; she told her son to leave them in her care. She said she'd take them in and raise them as her own. My mom was the youngest of the five, and was two years old at the time. This is a true story, of a good natured and kind woman. > When I get caught up in work and with life; and I sometimes forget > who I am..I remember her and realize that I can be as strong. > > God bless you all. > Love, > Tara > > > > > > > > > > > > > Tired of spam? Mail has the best spam protection around > > > > > Tired of spam? Mail has the best spam protection around > > > > > > > > > > Tired of spam? Mail has the best spam protection around > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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