unbroken river v4

For a minute today I think of them. 

My grandmother whom I lost at 10,

I carry her in my name,

and in fleeting impressions of strength and sternness, 

whom I used to sit like as a toddler, legs outstretched while chatting with the temple priests.

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,

in my 'O' Level English Oral as the family member I admire the most,

every Jan and July 7, 

his last birthday, celebrated with just us,  

three grandkids and his soon to be son-in-law.

My other grandfather, a shadowy figure at best, yet him 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 the first to call and wish us, 

on my birthday, anniversaries, kids' birthdays, festivals,

our direct line to God, so powerful her prayers for us, 

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 rush through my parents, 

shaping landscapes as 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,

pin them in lines to time