Skeletons in the family's closet have always been part and parcel of my father's family history. However through time and forgiveness, wounds have been repaired. My grandmother was a fine example of casting aside shortcomings and shadowy misdeeds, and emerging with strong hands but kind heart. Her rough and gruff voice still rings, even though she has been gone years ago. Dying at 93 years old, she was very frail and bedridden, far from the spirited grandmother I knew. She once confided to my husband, that she wanted to die already at around 70 years old. By then, she has lost her husband, one child and all her siblings. Her black eyes were piercing, with sadness, with shadows too long to see. This long life is a curse.
spring buds, delicate
fingers curl against palm of leaves-
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday, hosted by Toni (kanzensakura) ~ Thanks for the visit ~