This is a poem I wrote about my grandmother after she died. What an amazing woman my Grandma T. was. She raised 10 children. My mother was smack in the middle of the pack and their father died when my mom was about 12. My grandmother still managed to raise 10 wonderful kids. She was a young woman during the roaring 20s and loved to dance. She was kind, gentle and fiery all at the same time. I’ve never met anyone like her, who could be so humble and yet tough as nails. I miss her greatly, but am so thankful to have had her into my 30s.
She Had Her Mountains
When the world pushed her down, she pulled herself back up.
When she was in pain, she asked, “Are you okay?”
When someone was rough, she still said, “Thank you.”
When those she loved were taken, she knew she’d see them another day.
When she was hungry, she shared her food.
When she didn’t have money, she had her faith.
When she didn’t have mansions, she had her mountains.
A gentle soul,
A gentle reminder,
Of love and faith.
She touched so many lives.
Like ripples in a mountain crick,
Her gentle touch has spread
And will continue…
As long as there are children,
A beautiful legacy of a life lived for love and not for self.