Grandparents Day Poem For Nana

by Pat
(Merrimack, NH, USA)

Even though my Nana passed away when I was seven years old, her impact on me has been mighty. The challenges she faced as a young married woman were formidable: her son's awful illness with Saint Vitas' Dance, the death of an infant daughter, followed in three years by the death of her husband Sam in a terrible fall.

Nana was left with teenage boys and two younger girls, one of which was my mother who was eight years old when Grandfather Sam died.

Along with the rest of the nation Nana faced the Great Depression, followed by World War II. Though resources were often meager, the family thrived through its participation in the Presbyterian Church.

Nana belonged to the women's circle groups, the children played basketball in church leagues, went to Sunday school class and summer family camp.

Adventurous Nana was known for riding on the running board of the car on family outings. She was willing to go anywhere, either as a participant or chaperone on church events.

By the time I was born in 1954, Nana had lost a leg to peripheral artery disease and was wheelchair-bound. But two symbols bespoke of who she was: the lower shelf in the living room held her well-used Bible, and on top were crocheted bandages in process for the Red Cross.

She was profoundly rooted in faith, still giving even from her wheelchair. In her company I felt happy and optimistic, too.

When vascular disease landed Nana in the hospital again, she became friends with another patient, a nun named Mother Dorothea. This inter-religious friendship was rare in the early 1960’s, and the two patients acted as unofficial chaplains on their ward. Mother Dorothea remained a friend to our family after Nana passed away.

Nana’s spirit endures in the gift of my own faith as well as my understanding that happiness is relative to my willingness to help others.

Grandparents Day Poem
Winged Gifts

Happiness and joy are beautiful, winged gifts
that emerge from the dark chrysalis’ tiny rifts.

Pushing open sadness and loss, then newly born,
the butterfly, shining in the sun, lights to adorn

every nearby heart and shoulder, mind and hand.
With gentle hope and, ignoring all that’s planned,

flying onward, kissing goodness found mid-air:
Nana’s faith and giving still dance with gracious flair.

Her legacy is here, in me, and I pass it on to you:
take courage, then, and find the Peace in all you do.