Ode to Grandma

***Tonight as I was making my bed and putting my stuffies back on I began to wonder about my grandma. And how hard it must have been to have slept with my grandfather all those years and then going to sleeping alone. As I was doing the dishes I continued to have this thought which lead me to this story inspired by my grandma.***
That’s my granddaughter down there.
Looking over I saw a petite woman. Her blonde hair obviously from a bottle.. Cherub smile. Eyes sparkling. When her eyes caught mine I found myself drawn in.
Which one?
That one. The one doing the dishes. 
Looking down I saw a woman doing her dishes. Music played in the background.
She actually was washing her own dishes. 
I heard a chuckle from beside me and looked over at Grandma as I could now only think of her.
She is pretty smart. 
About somethings.
Other things she knows nothing about.
Like how to let people in.
So long she took care of everyone else.
Not an easy nut to crack my granddaughter.
Looking around I became bewildered.
I was seated in a hospital style waiting room.
However the attendants all had wings. And halos.
Began to wonder if the drugs I had done throughout the years were finally catching up with me.
Another cackle.
It seemed that Grandma was also a mind reader.
She patted my hand reassuringly and smiled.
You are in that space.
A small window between life and death.
The lip of the abyss.
You can continue forward to the judgement that awaits you.
Or you can go back.
I just thought I would point out my granddaughter.
She is a nurse you know.
*************************************************************************************
I became aware of a pulsing pain.
Radiating.
Everywhere.
I began to wish I was dead.
Wait.
I had been dead hadn’t I?
Now I was confused.
Was it a dream?
Or had I actually met some woman’s grandmother?
Who was trying to set me up with her granddaughter.
I groaned.
Felt a soft hand upon my arm.
Struggled to open my eyes.
It took time to focus.
First came the eyes.
Blue as irises.
The smile.
Curved.
Warm
Welcoming.
*************************************************************************************
I knew he would make the right choice.
She looked over.
Seeing a cute little old lady.
Radiating kindness and care.
Don’t worry dear. 
I am here to help.
Transition or Return to Sender.
I am the Sorter of Souls. 
Fitting as I once was a Sorter of Mail. 
She giggled.
It was infectious.
Maybe she would stay awhile.
Rest her weary heels.
©June 5/20
Picture via Pinterest

Author: Jay-lyn Doerksen

I am a single hard working mom in her 40's. I have always written poetry and I love words. I live with depression and its ups downs. This is a space where I can create and write all that I need to.

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