Home > Poetry > Promise to my Granny

Promise to my Granny

Losing you was much harder than when Grampa died.

The only mercy of the slow descent into the nothingness of dementia is that you have a long time to say goodbye, to prepare yourself for a world without the one who is fading before your eyes.

Of course, you tried to warn us, you’d been giving away your things for years, couldn’t have a visit with you without you trying to pawn off some long forgotten possession,

in my case usually a piece of kitchen equipment, because you wanted me to have it when you were gone.

But you were always so quick of mind, and stubborn as ever, I never really thought you’d go.

I always thought there’d be another Sunday dinner, for me to show you some new trick I’d learned,

another chance for you to remind me not to be afraid to keep it simple,

like my biscuits and gravy,

which you shamed me for refusing to admit were better than yours.

I owe more of who I am to you than to anyone.

My passion for good food, especially that prepared perfectly, good simple fare that doesn’t need to put on airs.

My love of argument, honed in our kitchen table debates over picante sauce and pork rinds.

My love of gatherings, and entertaining.

I can’t know for certain whether you’ll live again or not.

Heaven, reincarnation, the happy hunting grounds, one can choose to believe in such things, but they will always belong to the realm of faith.

Here’s what I can promise you though,

I will still cook Sunday dinners, and I will make my family the biscuits and gravy you loved so well,

and we will be together, and we will sit around the kitchen table, and laugh and argue, and eat picante sauce with pork rinds.

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Categories: Poetry
  1. charcoalgypsy
    May 21, 2010 at 6:13 am

    Sad…and beautiful…and delicious…and a good poem! 🙂

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