adaline

My grandma is dead. She is, and I see her blue eyes at night, when it is quite. I wasn't expecting it so soon, and I wasn't ready. She was. I wasn't. I didn't see her one last time. I should have, but there was suppose to be more time. There was not more time, but there was suppose to be. Still she knows. The week before, our hands held each others hands and she said that I wasn't done. "Some people's stars are in the sky and some are rooted at the foot." And I wasn't done. She was someone to remember. I never told her she was to be the basis for the film, for the true Adaline. I never told her and I wanted her to know. She will always be Adaline, and I will be for her. She had small hands, she had small sholders. Her eyes. Her eyes were true. She was mine and I was hers and her path is my path, and we share that path.

I thank you for your travels, and showing me how. I thank you for that fire. The brightness of you is now my star. I am not done. I will make you proud, I am for you. Thank you for my father, for my life. You gave me my breath. You gave me my fire. I will fight for you as you fought, and your Charles who you lost, and my Charles that I have, the sickness they share, is fate. I will love our kin and keep there hands close. I am for you. And I am not done. I am sorry. Sorry I am sad that your small sholders and blue eyes are gone. I do not want to give that to you. You will be remembered. You will not be forgotten. You are my fire, and that fire will spread and I am proud that I knew you. I am proud. Thank you.

She left behind two sons, five grandchildren and one great-grand child.

In loving memory. You are our fire.

Marjorie Smith
August 17, 1921 - May 30th, 2007

Rest In Peace.