For Poppy

My last grandfather died before I turned eleven several, several years ago. He was the last of my grandparents, too. I had no more. My friends, God bless them, have since shared their grandparents with me and I have been ever so grateful to them. On Wednesday, one of my best friend's grandfather passed away from pancreatic cancer. They called him Poppy--and I did, too. He was that surrogate grandfather I had needed. he would send me home with tomatoes in the summer and call me "little girl." It made me feel special. My friend's family held visitation tonight and the funeral is tomorrow. I have a 98 year old great aunt that we go visit every other week (she has no children of her own--we're the closest thing) and I'm going to miss the funeral. So, to have a service all my own, I just wrote Poppy a poem. I haven't told my friend about it--I'm a little embarrassed about it and she's cried enough as it is. I don't often share my feelings with people. It's kind of crazy--I hadn't cried or anything until I wrote the poem. It's so hard to believe he's gone. But, in a sense, he isn't. I know he's watching over us all and praying for us. Anywho, here's the poem.

For Poppy

You weren't mine
--Not by blood
But I loved you no less
Than had you been
I figured you were tired and I don't blame you
Times is hard...
...Can be harder when the love of your life left first
For golden streets in lofty skies
I didn't know you long
But she knew you before you knew her
Deep in your daughter's womb
And when she and I grew closer in friendship
I steadily grew closer to you
You reminded me of Pepaw
Mine blood, long since cold and gone
Having worked hard all your life as he had
Laughing loud and free as he had
A love for music and guitar like he had
He was my last
And years later Father would turn me to you
I wish you and he had met on Earth
And I hope you meet in Paradise
You cain't miss 'im
He's Big John and his brother Jesse will be with him
And 'Lil Ruthie will be on his right
Maybe you and Nelvin could find 'em
And Nanny can talk with my Memaw
Play your harmonica--Pepaw will sing
And Jesse is a wizard of the guitar
Or so I'd been told
O, Poppy how your granddaughter misses you
The one by blood
And the one by Blood

1/20/12