They loved me as I was.
They sheltered me.
They nourished me with homemade sweets and hugs.
They protected me and swept me up in arms strong with love.
They were the stock, the lineage from which I am of.
Seemingly breakable, they were women of substance,.
holding family together with dignity and grace,
birthing babies on their home-beds within,
bearing child after child and delivering twins,
clothing little ones with stitches they had sewn,
providing in spite of sickness and aching bones.
Grandma’s plague was asthma, Granny’s, her weak heart.
In spite of all they survived and endured from the start.
I remember my grandmothers,
how their sweetness embraced my soul.
Not enough cherished memories, however, do I hold.
Their time was cut short before they were told
that I recall their love and recollect their lives,
that I recognize myself in their gentle blue eyes,
that I treasured their touch and their caressing,
and that when they went, they left me with a blessing.
Poem and Photos property of D.Cashwell