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My maternal grandmother was always a very stern woman and I love this picture of her smiling with my mom.
My grandfather, Pepere, was such a handsome man. I feel like I never really knew these grandparents because they spoke mostly French and I didn't.
Last spring there was a "Looking Back at Local History" article in the local newspaper about how my grandfather had once been in an accident and how he helped save several people. I wrote the following poem about it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Pepere
I never knew
my grandfather
was a hero.
I remember him
as just being there
smiling at me
like a photograph
caught in the gauze
of my memory.
I never thought
of him as a man
going to work,
playing with his kids,
telling a joke,
listening to music.
What foods did he like?
What made him laugh?
What were his dreams?
The picture I have
of him is one-dimentional,
flat, gray.
I don't know
what color shirt
he was wearing
when his car
went into the water.
I can't see the weather.
Did he scream
as he helped the women
out of the water?
Did they hug him
in thanks? Pepere,
who were
you?
5 comments:
Hello, Linda!
I like your dots... ;)
I like the way you narrow focus from
a generalized questioning to specific emotions in this poem.
Very poignant and effective.
Nice work!
~Angie
Your pépère was no paper tiger!
Fascinating tale.
LIke the way it goes...
I never knew my paternal grand father. He dies when my dad was 2 years old.
Hi Linda, It's fascinating how you discovered a part of your past through a newscliping. That would have been a fascinating poem, too, to feel that uncovering. You get at it here, of course, but the poem is about your grandfather, about how little you knew him, not as much your feelings.
Nicely done.
this is so touching,,, because it is so true,, what we do not know about those people we love,, often outweighs that which we do a hundred times over.......
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