Dear Grandma

A Poem by Lyric

Letter/rant to my dead grandmother

Dear grandma Ruthy,

I never knew you. But I can still pretend to remember this or that event my father brings every once in a while. I have the change you saved up for me, still in the water thing I can't name at this very moment, when I was little I used to pour a few out in my hand, thinking that if I found one with an old enough date I'd make a fortune.
The picture, your funeral program, I still have them. All of them. Pasted into a 4 1/2 inch sketch book I got when I was seven years old.

I had ran to my father's office and made a copy of every photo I had in the ancient copy machine, not caring that we only had black ink or that if it was taken outside in the sun in the places where it was too bright the paper was invisible.
Then I glued them to the pages of the small book, hands covers in goop glue afterwards.

I'd payed attention to those copies, I tried to recall family names. The faces if my cousins and aunts and uncles that I'd known I'd once been closer to. Big family. Too many names to remember. At least that's what I told myself.

I have always loved you. In that weird way you 'love' a celebrity or crush, I care about and feel like I know you, even though in reality I don't.
Despite the stories I still have a fascination with you. Seems like one of few.

I've seen proof, so they're right when they say I look just like you. Unfortunately, that means I look just like my father.
In case you wanted to know my father, and all your children are still here besides the one who died when you were alive.
Although my father is crazy, uncle M is about to fall over the brink of sanity, uncle R is a chronic loner who we constantly have to track down to make sure is alive more than you'd believe and aunt A hasn't been to Jersey in years.

On a higher note you have two adoptive grandchildren. My adoptive sister and brother. They're four and three.
And also one great, great, great niece, and one great, great, great nephew who are two, almost three I think and five or six, my fourth cousins who I'm strangely close to. I mean, like not close to. But cone on, how many people even no the names of their fourth cousins? Cut me some slack. (Ma'am)

You probably have more children, all the others I know you know. I'm one of the youngest, you've met me so if they're older than me you've met them.
The older generation is strange. Always talking about how we should all be closer, how we should hang out with each other and how family comes first.
Then why are we all closer to our honorary families than our biological ones? Why am I closer to my third cousins than my firsts?
Who knows. Are family likes to keep secrets. We have feuds that belong in soap opera. Maybe that's why I do so well on English.
But if we're supposed to be so close why do we leave some of us to tough it out in Newark and Elizabeth while others live like kings in Maplewood and the Oranges?

Why do we respond 'who?' When a member of our families name is mentiond before the tiniest light bulb goes off in our minds telling us who the person is?

A man you might remember, a lot like my honorary uncle has come to love me like a child.
Since he's know our family for over 40 years that's not really a surprise. Not only is he my uncle, he's my friend. And he's supplied me with a plethora of other friends since I was born. He's given me a place to be angry without punishment or judgement, and he's given me understanding.
Emphasis on the the last part.

As for your other grandchildren, I couldn't tell you how the are. A has gone to college. Moved to Delaware and has a job at a car rental place, and apartment. Can't say I'm not jealous of her. She got her stuff together.
M on the other hand. Well M's like me. Exept he can't blame anything on his age anymore. I'll get there soon enough, I know it.
Kicked out of the house for the second time this year. Rubbed his father the wrong way, and, well the rest is history.
It's been building up over the years, slowly, slowly and then out of nowhere, it over boiled, it covered the ground and it melted his feet off. Now his feet are gone. So what is he gonna do? That's right, waddle until he makes it out. I hope, at least.
He got pulled out of school. Grades not high enough so aunt An and uncle M saw no point in paying him to go out of state. For him to fail.
Even if we don't know each other as well as we should he's grown on me. A little bit like a big brother. Although I'd settle for the first cousins we for some reason have never got to be.
I've learned his story grandma. And if there's one thing anyone of can't do, it's lie.
And as I said earlier, uncle M is insane. But aren't we all?
I remember driving through and seeing uncle L's car in front of his house, half parked half kept in the middle of the street. Automatically knowing that something was wrong. Or at least weird. It had to be.
Uncle M had called my father, just like he always does when something like this happens, and we'd rushed back over. I'd stayed in the car with my mother, and i had been waiting for the sirens. Waiting for for the red lights and I know it sounds dramatic but everyone who knows uncle M knows that he's not a bluffer. Crazier things have happened. He's done crazier things.

M's a good kid. I'm a good. Every kid is a good kid. But we're still kids.
Turns out the reason for all of this was, as I heard my father whisper to my mother later that night 'he had an attitude about being asked to walk the dog.'
They'd taken M to one of his friends houses after they'd dropped me off with uncle L and who knows what happened. But he had to get out of there, apparently things had gotten somewhat violent. He needed to get out of there before there was a real reason for the police to be called. And a real reason for a funeral.

He's trying to get a job. Until then he's staying on and off with his parents, I wouldn't if I were him but it's his chose u guess, us and uncle L, just can't stay with him all the time cause I is back from college.
No one else wants him except us. We're trying to move back up near Newark from Trenton, and the extra money on food isn't helping us but whatever I guess.
I'm whining now. I know and I'm sorry cause I know how much you hated that but cine on.

Uncle M keeps banging the idea that the service is the only way out of this if he can't get a job and he can't live with them with is stupid. Who says that? Who does that? He'd never be so retarded, that is just the dumbest decision on the planet. It's called getting a job. He's had interviews. He's done good and I don't know why pr how thoughts like this get into his father's mind. He was never even in the service.

No one in our family would call you a saint. But all I know is we need you. Seems like you kept stuff together. But your gone. Just like all the other old people. And one day I'll be gone. And M will be gone and our grandchildren will be writing sappy letters to us thinking the same lies are true. Every one wants what they can't have. Every one thinks that what they don't have is better than what they do have. And I sware to God I wish it were different. But it's not. We're a broken family. And in a few years I'll be just as bad off as M. Hopefully he's hot his s**t together by then so he can temporarily shelter me.
But until then I'm gonna hold on to my 4 1/2 inch little sketch book full of memories. I hope you do the same too

© 2015 Lyric

Author's Note

Guys sorry if this is personal

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Reviews

Crystal Overmeyer-Birmi..

Its a bit long, but man i am glad i didn't let that deter me from starting it. I like wise have a grand parent that i never got to meet but have always been fascinated by what they would think of me now. GREAT READ. It flowed really well and left me in awe. Thank you for sharing