A dozen white roses sit by my bed
A gift from my husband, I love you they said
For 69 years my grandma had that too
Maybe not in roses, but in something he’d do
The strength that she has I see in her face
She calls it stubborn, I call it Grace
For always they would stand as husband and wife
She as his rock, the love of his life
It’s in her face, every tear, every line
That I see the great things of this grandpa of mine
She stayed in the cold to stand by his side
To cheer and support when chariots he’d ride
She’d watch from the kitchen and knew all the tricks
She’d hand grandpa the scoop so he’d be ready for my ice cream fix
She’d sit by his side, a smile on her face
As grandpa would sing jingles, a bounce to keep pace
She’d stand on the porch as we played outside
Grandpa chasing me around, no place I could hide
In the back room where she always swept
His small brown boots often were kept
I’d try them on…would they fit me this week?
“We’ll they’re smaller than mine,” grandma would say tongue in cheek
Grandma grew rhubarb, he’d cut us a slice
Then roll us in barrels and tell us “play nice”
She’d call me Dolly as I walked in the door
And he’d sing about MeriAnn down by the shore
I got to shoot his special gun at big rocks after school
But not before she made her point, be careful was the rule
He’d make us rings from horseshoe nails and she make sure they fit
He’d take us for rides in the back of the truck, and she’d make sure we would sit
He’d bounce us around on the top of his knee from the kitchen she could see
He’d tell us we were special and hold us close, and often “de da la de”
She was always there a shoulder to cry when grandpa was teaching us to be tough
For some reason he thought with salt in a cut, it didn’t hurt as much
At family events he never would leave, too much that he would miss
A grandkid or two on each knee with a little song and a little kiss
Grandma would help him when telling his stories to get us all involved
She’d ask us questions and he’d make us laugh when the joke was solved
The family came first, no matter what, they’d rather give than take
From camping to cars to the last peach in the jar, the sacrifice they would make
The love that he had for all his girls was special you see
But the love he had for grandma, his wife, was a great example to me
I love you Grandpa, and Grandma you too
And I’m thankful for all of the things that you do
I’ll miss all the memories that he’ll add to your face
But we’ll see him again in another time, in another place
Four Generations of Taylor Women
Grace and her Mimi Art, Grace and I
3 comments:
What a good looking guy. I'm sure it was a wonderful funeral. You look great!
I'm so sorry, he was such a nice guy your grandparents always made me feel welcome when you would take me to their house, they are a beautiful couple.
I'm so behind on reading your blog...now that it's private it doesn't auto update on my blog. Silly me I thought you were just super busy with that sweet baby of yours.
So sorry to hear about your grandfather. The poem was beautiful...brought tears to my eyes.
Post a Comment