By Marilee Zdenek
Looking backward at ninety,
looking forward to heaven,
you’re getting ready to move
out of one life-zone
into another.
You speak of death like it’s the vacation you’ve been promised
but never taken,
like people you love are waiting there
and you’re holding up the party,
like God Himself is fitting you with dancing shoes,
feet that won’t hurt
and eyes that can see again.
Years ago, I remember,
‘Grandmother’ had too formal a sound,
so I gave you love-names
and made up songs
and stories in your honor.
I guess I still do.
Marilee Zdenek is the author of seven books, including The Right-Brain Experience which has been published in six languages. She has taught at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference since the 1980’s and served on the Board of Directors at Hospice of Santa Barbara for nine years. Also by this poet: "Really?"