unbroken river v3

For a minute today I think of them. 

My grandmother whom I lost at 10,

I carry her in my name. 

My grandfather whom I lost at 25, 

him I carry in a million little ways - 

in a song on the radio that we both loved,

in the way I walk when lost in thought,

larger than life in my father's stories,

every Jan and July 7, 

his last birthday, celebrated with just 3 grandkids and his soon to be son in law.

My other grandfather, a shadowy figure at best,, but whom I carry in a handwritten prayer he wrote for me the eve of my wedding, 

that by some miracle I still had years later, 

that I learned to say at one of my lowest points, 

that I still give copies of to young ladies desperate like I once was, 

for a child.

 

And my grandmother, she whom I see in the contours of my mother's face, my daughter's and maybe one day, in mine,

whom I remember every special day, for she would be first to call and wish us, 

on my birthday, anniversaries, kids" birthdays, 

the beacon whose passing is a gash in our lives so recent, 

we are still learning to live without her.  

I carry a little of bit of these giants inside me, don't I? 

Like four mighty water sources, 

they merge in me and branch out into smaller tributaries that are my children, 

an unbroken river through time, 

----‐--

Today i think of them,

their courage,

their stories of sorrow and joy.

and I wake up in the middle of the night

to write them down

extra

And they live in my children though my kids know but one of them,

fleeting impressions 

in the way I used to sit as a child at temple, legs stetched out, chatting with with temple priests,  

the way I walk when deep in thought