This picture was taken at Christmas, 1963. That’s me in the fake-fur trimmed coat – my smile is a little “off” because I had lost my two front teeth. My little brother and cousins, Sheila and Scott, are also in the picture. I can smell her “toilet water” (she really called it that), and can remember the way she held my hand when we walked. She was my Grammie and I was her Honeybunch. I miss her.
I knew her love, her voice, her touch,
But, the truth is I didn’t know very much.
She was gone before I knew what to ask,
My chance to know has long since past.
Under her nice was she naughty too?
And, what was her favorite food?
I wonder what she’d tell me about him,
The first male to get under her skin.
Or about the one whose babies she bore,
And what about those styles she wore?
Who gave her that first kiss?
Was there someone she’d always miss?
What did she dream about when all alone?
Was she ever broken in heart or bone?
What made her laugh or caused her fear?
Did she shed secret tears?
What songs did she hear in her heart?
What did she do when things fell apart?
Oh Grandma, how I wish knew,
The woman who lived inside of you.
By Joy DeKok – copyright 2012
Joy DeKok
Author & Author Coach
Visit my other sites:
www.booksbyjoy.com (Books by Joy & Others)
My Latest Releases:
To learn more, visit AMAZON.
To learn more, visit AMAZON.
About Joy Dekok
Very nice! Sweet!