This poem was written just a few days after my firstborn son was born and as my Grandma Stratton was slowly slipping away from mortality.
Grandma had suffered a stroke that kept her bedridden and unable to speak. But, though no words passed her lips, her eyes were beautiful and eloquent in their love and tenderness. As I lifted my tiny boy child, bringing him near to her, where she could see him, I raised one of her shaky, wrinkled hands and set it gently on his head. She began to cry and I could feel the love for him pour from her eyes onto her pillow. I have had the opportunity to know how powerful a force love can be, and that moment was one of the most profound of my life.
I came home that night and wrote this poem for Grandma. A week later she passed away.
There are times in life when Heaven is all around us here. I’d like to share one of those moments from my life with you.
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“To Grandma on Ezekiel’s Birth”
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Anxiously I’ve awaited this time of harvest,
Knowing love and faith would finally
Bear fruit and place in my arms a fragile soul.
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You awaited this time as eagerly as I, I think;
Knowing how near heaven is when life begins and ends,
Seeing more clearly than I how both keep our family whole.
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If my hands were stronger,
I may be tempted to keep these two lives fragile;
One always small and precious,
One always “Grandma”
Here in my arms, near my heart.
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But, I would not want to keep you from stepping closer to Heaven,
Though the steps take you out of my reach,
Any more than I would keep my child from knowing love and joy,
Though he’ll become more his own and less “me”.
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I hold him up for you to see: my priceless harvest,
My firstborn,
The last you will see on this side of the veil.
I place your weak, fragile hand
Upon my son’s tender head
And volumes of love are in your eyes.
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Your two souls pass one another,
Both too near Heaven to speak,
Filled with an understanding beyond words
And I glimpse for a moment the beauty of eternal life
Where families are forever
And love never dies.
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