Burial and Closure (World’s Best Granny)

That surreal feeling,
Always expecting her to be the one answering the door.
From when I used to walk with my granny to the post office,
She had to take it nice and slow,
(I had so much energy I was practically running in place.)

She hid her mistakes so well,
Was pure and benevolent in my young eyes.
Surrounded by such perfection,
I earnestly couldn’t believe she would die…

Ever judicious as I went up to see the body,
Feeling like there had to be some sort of mistake.
The burial gift that I brought was for her,
I didn’t realize just how it was also for my sake.

My father tried to take it himself,
Concerned it would be too much for my little heart.
But this was something I had to do,
And only I could play the part.

The trophy I got her at the age of 5,
A silver angel on a stand of black.
Inspiring as her influence on me,
“World’s Best Granny” etched into the plaque.

More overwhelming than the mourning,
It seemed so profoundly symbolic like I could never understand,
Placing my (no, the entire family’s) symbol of her next to her heart,
And enclosing it, sealed, in her hand.

The wave of tears seemed instantly calmed,
And the storm resided inside.
Washed away so much of the hurt,
And gave me a calm of mind.

An inexplicable beauty on leaving a final mark,
One last appreciation to a loved one.
A therapeutic closure to lift the burden,
A thoughtful bittersweet smile looking up at the morning sun.