2004-11-18 - 8:51 p.m.
i'm finding it hard to choose the right words to write for her. to decide if i'll keep it to myself or stand up and recite for her. but whether i'm on stage spittin' or at home crying, somewhere, right now, my Grandmother's dying.
black woman with two fish swimming in opposite directions, so she wasn't the type to give a lot of affection. But she gave love, as the old folks say, in her own way. not with hugs and kisses but with peach cobbler and fried chicken, hot water corn bread and black eyed peas, potato salad and baked macaroni and cheese.
she would give me her love on the sly right under my Grandfather's watchful eye. she would slide me a $20 bill folded neatly and discretely, it would pass from palm to palm. she'd recite the 23rd psalm and the lord's prayer as she pressed my hair in the kitchen. she'd reveal that she knew all the things i'd never mention. she would just say, "so how is camil, is she doing ok?"
then she would let me off the hook with nothing more than a knowing look. and that's something i learned to do cause i still can't get her to say "i love you too." so, it's something i just let her know, i already knew.
that's why i'm finding it hard to choose the right words to write for her. to decide if i'll keep it to myself or stand up and recite for her. but whether i'm on stage spittin' or at home crying, somewhere, right now, my Grandmother's dying.
i still have to handle all the things i would on an ordinary day. keep on going on like everything's ok. run all the errends that need to be run. hold myself together and watch my mother come undone. running herself ragged organizing Gramma's affairs as a nurse comes in to organize Gramma's hairs in one long grey braid down the side of her head. i stand on the side of her bed trying to find a way to say all the things i've never said.
that's why i'm finding it hard to choose the right words to write for her. to decide if i'll keep it to myself or stand up and recite for her. but whether i'm on stage spittin or at home crying somewhere, right now, my Grandmother's dying
