We sit in the hall
Her photo garlanded,
she is smiling, natural
Fruits and flowers are laid out for her
Incense fills the air
The centre of attention,
she must be happy where she is
No easy words
for this grandmother
who is all and more
of the memories of those
who mourn her, miss her,
feel secret relief
She loved to pray,
thought of God at all times
before and after spewing ungodly words
that tore through
skin muscle ligament veins
to the very soul of those she lived with
She always had a smiling face
to welcome people
but sat grim at home to greet family,
ready to crush them beneath her feet
She'd wish good things for loved ones overseas,
write in her book all their names everyday,
so devout, so holy
then fill the air with sulphrous words,
curse the ones she lived with
for lacking consideration for her grace,
She'd never fail to have a cup of tea ready for one grandchild
then berate the other
for not offering her any food,
telltale, and watch blows rain upon him
The ones in her shadow
bore the brunt of the weight
of the cloak of decency
she shed upon entering home,
the dreaded battlefield
where she shredded the family
as commander in chief,
a heavy presence
waiting to be waited on
only ever unhappy and
and ever ready to show it.
Ever strategic
she showed this side to sum total three
who'd never be believed,
who would have to bear the taunt
that they must have behaved heinously
to provoke a saint,
the self she showed the world.
So how do we mourn this being,
angel to the world
witch to the few,
compounded by the good death
she was granted:
speedy,
almost painless,
surrounded by loved ones,
(who actually loved her
for she was divine to these folk
she was visiting),
granted a beautiful service,
air filled with prayer,
hallowed words that ring hollow
to the three who had quivered under her wrath,
wondering
what went wrong with them?
Maybe, all her prayers did help her,
even if her words and actions slashed
Maybe, God looking out for the three,
taking her away when she was away,
so they could do their duty
more guest than host,
lifting a burden off their bent backs
freeing them after 15 years
Maybe they were her safe space
to be her true self,
and better them than the world
There is hope
she is happy where she is now,
the three need feel no guilt,
just acceptance
that angels are devils too with some,
and know they have permission to feel
this uneasy mix at her passing,
that it is okay to celebrate
her ominous presence lifted
from their home forever
Unburdened,
maybe
they can breathe,
find themselves again
There is hope
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