In Memory of Marcia R. Moore

Yesterday was the 15-year anniversary of my grandma's death from cancer. I still have moments when I miss her so much - like it all just happened, like it wasn't a decade and a half ago. Her death had a huge impact on my life, but her life (thankfully) even more so.

I wish so many of you could have known her. She was funny, and compassionate, and a bit of a rebel. But she taught me so much about loving God, and she truly trained me up "in the way I should go."

I've posted a couple of pictures. The first one is obviously Grandma in her youth - long before I was even thought of. :)

The second is her with her two middle boys - my dad (waving - look at those legs!) and my uncle Tom (with the goofy face). She had six kids all together - Dick, Bill, Jim (my dad), Tom, Rob, and Princess - that would be my aunt Lou. It was a rough life, but she was an amazing woman.

I think I get my wanderlust, sense of fun, and creativity largely from her. Thanks, Grandma.

And here's one of the poems I wrote about her after her death. Forgive me, but it's a little depressing. Also forgive me, because this is actually one of my better ones. (Yeah, so you can see why I don't really write poetry any more!)

1924 - 1991
Your legacy is a cold marble stone
with your name and a couple of dates,
as if you were only sixty-seven years
from here - to there.
Some might say you were
like a rock, like this
slab we placed as a
monument to your death?
Even the flowers I
brought you don't fit.
I'm missing a few pieces still -
this puzzle - because I
don't understand.

I thought this would be a milestone -
coming here -
but it's only a gravestone.
We gave you a park, some flowers,
a few companions, and a
rock to mark your unresting place.
I'm not happy with this arrangement -
it's all cut-and-dried.
I'm not God, or cancer, or time,
and I don't decide.
Not how any of us plan these things -
this death - because we
don't understand.

If I could have my way...
but tradition doesn't listen.
And if I were in the business of making
symbols, I would have thrown away
this stone.
This stone for this seed I plant.
So small, so helpless, it will take
root and grow - forever -
live wrapped around and
in you, like a memory.
But I am forbidden -
this seed - to
understand.