Mrs Emberley

Sometimes a Grandmother is not a Grandmother
Sometimes she is someone else.

I picture you in your kitchen
With your well-coiffed hair
And usually an apron on
Inquiring about our small childish days
Quite earnestly.

How nice it was
That you were always there.
Year after year
For us, and for others.

Life went on for me,
With children and busy-ness
And it becomes harder to revisit the people of our youth
But you are never really forgotten
Just out of the limelight.

Not a time went by
When I drove past your place on the Harbour Road
That I did not think of you.
I think of you now.
I think of the people you touched in your long life.

I think how our experiences form us.
And so you, in your way,
Had to have had some part in
My becoming me.

I am grateful for that.  I am grateful to you.
Rest in peace, dear lady.