18: Hallowed ground...

This slice is a follow-up to 16: Around the Table...Again:


We stood outside this morning
on a tiny postage stamp patch of wintry grass
underneath a tiny canopy
made vibrantly blue by the colorless sky
black overcoats, suits, dresses, tights, boots
packed in by family
behind the two rows of felt-covered folding chairs
that lined his golden oak casket

I caught my eyes darting between headstones
close enough to read

WULLIMAN

Harry and Elmira

were just beyond

FLUECKIGER

Robert and Marilyn

To the left there was one darker stone

almost covered by the throng of mourners

I could only make out the last three letters 

yet the tears welled up

and rolled down, down

my fingertips straightened

and pushed my pockets' seams

to stifle the smallish gasp 

because I knew

just like that

where we were standing

MC KEAN

Gorman and Lorraine

the hallowed ground 

where my grandparents

rested

I remembered them, too

Write on,

b

16: Around the table...again

Years ago in the house on West Dearborn
the living room lights would twinkle on a Friday night
there would be four cars in the driveway after dinner and
four couples
laughing about diets and desserts
remembering farms and furniture factories
telling stories and
playing games like Bones and Skipbo
around the dark formica table in the avocado kitchen

But then it was my grandpa twenty years ago
and my grandma's sister's husband one month later
which was a blessing
they had each other here
and they had each other there
so they removed a leaf from the table
and then it was my grandma's brother on April 7
and my grandma's younger sister on April 7 the next year
so they removed another leaf from the table here and added one there
and then it was my grandma's brother's wife a few years later
and then it was my grandma a few years after that
so they removed another leaf from the table here and added another one there
and then it was my grandma's older sister a few months later
and yesterday it was my grandma's younger sister's husband

When I heard the news I heard them
laughing again
like they did years ago in the house on West Dearborn
the living room lights would twinkle on a Friday night
there would be four cars in the driveway after dinner and
Earl and Corrine
Harry and Elmira
Gorm and Lorraine
Bob and Marilyn
would play games likes Bones and Skipbo
around the dark formica table in the avocado kitchen


Write on,
b

2: It's just like...

He concentrates on using a wide, black spatula to 

press down the hash browns 

sizzling inside the electric skillet

while I whisk the eggs 

dancing around inside the large measuring cup

I add the shredded cheddar, 

salt and pepper

while he flips, presses again, and 

remembers

You know why I like to eat at Steak & Shake so much?

I look up, wondering*

*We do all love a crispy-edged cheeseburger...

I can go there anytime

and it is just like

1980

and I’m walking in

with Joe

my grandpa

for a date

He used to take me 

on dates

Just us 

I loved that

before his heart gave out

and mine broke

I like 

my burgers

liberally salted and 

tossed into a screaming

hot electric skillet

to brown on one side

and then the other

before the snug blanket of

Velveeta melts atop

I can make them anytime

and it is just like

1986

and I see Lorraine

my grandma

wearing her apron

in the avocado kitchen

on West Dearborn Street

frying cheeseburgers

for us

I loved that

before she became widowed and moved

into an apartment

and I moved away from home

into an apartment

in the city

She would've loved the

last burgers we made...

We should go 
to Steak & Shake
soon...

Write on,
b

26: The last Saturday afternoon date...

We bundled up as the golden leaves blew
across the front yard and into the drive
I knew I should go
as if my heart foretold the end
that Saturday afternoon
Grant nestled in the carseat
and I in the front
We headed north, toward the place
that's one stop closer to heaven
In the parking lot I unhooked his latches
he wiggled out and into my arms
The wind still blew
and the leaves still danced majestic in the autumn sky
and the tears still formed
waiting
knowing
and then falling
and then stopping
the brave face
I put on to go through the
first set of double doors past the nurses
and then the next set into her wing
and finally the single door into her room
that opened like a treasure trove
full of the people I love
all sitting there
all waiting
for the next breath
in the center
Grandma laying
her cornflower eyes hidden
her crown of soft, white curls
danced as she gasped toward
her next breath
I looked in
my heart
buoyed only in knowing
soon she'd find
the bright space,
the perfect place,
her Savior
and
my grandpa
her mother
her father
her brother
her sisters
again

I shared Grant and padded in toward the bedside seat
I held her familiar hand and
I nuzzled her wrinkly cheek
Grandma, I love you
years of memories rolled across my heart
as I sat
smiling
at the thought of heaven
tearing up
at the thought of this world without her
that my boys would never truly know
the woman
who steadied my slippery baby body
in my parents' kitchen sink that first bath
who lavishly loved her family
who chose to laugh in all circumstances
with determination and moxie
a woman
after whom my heart is fashioned

We bundled up as the golden leaves blew
majestic against the blue sky outside her window
I couldn't stay
yet I lingered
knowing this would be
the last Saturday afternoon date
We held hands
three generations
linked

I kissed her forehead
I'll see you there...


Write on,
b

10: Made for it...

At 97 years, 91 years
70 of them married
they were made for it
a crown of white hair next to hers of chestnut brown
giggling about the 'old folks'
living down the hall in their retirement complex
they just didn't want to admit
that they had slowed down too
from the rocking chair by the garden sliding door
he said, "'Mother,' when I die check the clock."
and I'm sure, from the kitchen, she didn't turn to look
he said, "There's a piece of paper stuffed inside."
and I'm sure, from that day on, she didn't check
not ever
because she wouldn't
until that Friday morning when
she woke up in their apartment and
he woke up in heaven and
there were people to call and
plans to make and
she read his 1920s cursive
"Bless this House"
"My God and I"
"Happy Trails"
opening it was admitting
that they had become
the 'old folks'

Even if they were made for it

Write on,
b

3: The stairway message...

We had gotten up late that Friday morning
There were shirts to be picked and put on wriggling bodies
There were pants to be matched, too
And tiny socks with small shoes
There were cups of milk to warm
And a 'Curious George' episode to que

The phone buzzed, jiggling across the creamy vanity counter
I stared into the mirror applying eye liner,
first on top lid and then on the bottom
My mom and I always talk on the phone once I jump into the car,
And all is calm

Another buzz.  Voicemail.

Another buzz.  Text.

With make-up compacts jammed back into their rightful compartments
I glanced at the text

"Did you listen to my voicemail?"

Quickly,  "No.  What did it say?"

"Listen to it.  Then call me."

"OK."

I pulled on pants; picked a shirt; pushed on boots; prepared to listen to her voicemail
as I bounded down the stairs to dress the awaiting littles in the family room
Darkness passed through the second-floor stairwell picture window,
dimming the steps
Mid-flight, I stopped; the morning din gone
In its place the bossy silence of shock
Her words, heavy

"I just wanted to see if I could catch you."
"Grandpa...died this morning."

They clunked around first in my mind,
and then in my heart,
and then fell out in a puddle of tears
while I stood on the tred fixed
half-way up and
half-way down
as I remembered
his smile
his laugh

"Tom," I mustered

His footsteps understood and padded toward me
I hid myself in the solace of his warm eyes
Before the shirts,
the pants,
the socks,
and the shoes

And there
in the hours since
I've stayed


Write on,
b