March 23

Some many years ago my grandmother (who raised me) died on March 23, Holy Week.  I was with her in the hospital emergency room, holding her when she drew her last labored breath.  I loved her so much.  She was my “mother.”  To my heart. I wrote a short short poem about her that says it all:

She never yelled. 

she never hit me.

She taught me to make

Raspberry jello.

******************************************* Thank you God for my grandmother, who taught me the Bible and piano and so many things.  Most of all she made me feel valued.  Loved.