The Kitchen Table
I'm reaching for my cup
sitting high on the kitchen table.
You refused to help me up
because you knew that I were able.
You would greet me with a kiss
as you gently stroke my hair;
then you'd smile with confidence
as you point towards the chair.
It's like you were everywhere
that I ever needed you to be.
You always strive to keep me aware;
although I'm far too young to see.
When my stints of curiosity
seemed more than some could bear,
you always offered earnest generosity
and truly unconditional care.
Your trademark tempo has declined
due to issues with your back;
so I really don't mind
helping pick up some of the slack.
I've always had a knack
for consistency when handling chores;
but this higher rate of frequency
became much more than I could absorb.
I try my best not to complain;
although it hardly seems fair
to have house work accompany homework
while your own children are laying there.
They wouldn't lift a finger for much
outside of a beer bottle or blunt;
and when bills come to the forefront,
they disappear by the first of the month.
You knew that it wasn't right;
but you never really put up a fight.
You'd just allow them to stay here;
pacifying themselves with their plight.
This severely bothered me for years.
I truly couldn't stand the sight;
but my love for you kept me near
and I sat with you every night.
I never really slept much
when your health became an issue.
Some nights involved sugar attacks.
Others involved trash bags and tissue.
My days were usually spent
keeping your insulin needles handy
while nights involved keeping my brother
from eating your chocolate candy.
Time changed my point of view
and we started to grow apart;
but what always remained constant
was your spot reserved in my heart.
I'm seventeen years old
and college comes in a few months.
I've truly loved being here with you;
but this strain is entirely too much.
For weeks on end, you've tried your best
to coerce me into staying:
From guilt trips and tantrums
to words you'd never consider saying.
Tears rolled down my cheeks
as I helped my brother into the van.
I know you won't believe it right now;
but I've done all that I can.
The winds of late August
begin to violently blow.
The bridges are cluttered with cars
that gathered fast; but drive slow.
Uncle constantly kept us in the loop
while keeping you from the wind and rain;
but I know that although you were safe,
The house we loved absorbed the pain.
The roof was ripped and torn apart
by nature's malicious maelstrom.
I know that seeing this firsthand
placed your heart and mind in bedlam.
No matter how much we begged,
you consistently replied "No.";
but your wisdom eventually took over
and you knew it was time to let go.
As my Mother clutched the receiver,
tears swiftly streamed from her eyes
when finally given the news
that her brother was not found alive.
None of us had the strength
to divulge such woeful findings;
but true to form: your intuition
easily exposed what we were hiding.
Although I knew you'd find out soon,
I never knew the depth of it's impact.
You spent day after day in your room.
Your emotions were far from intact.
It angers me to see you like this,
but it wasn't hard to understand;
and with every good night kiss,
I knew that darker times were at hand.
The holidays were slow and dull.
Winter beauty has lost it's luster.
We longed for that jovial aura
that only you could muster.
The new year is days away
and our home is in fair condition;
but the doctors kept you at bay
to hopefully give your illness remission.
Cell phones stayed within reach,
Mom has become a bundle of nerves,
and fear is starting to breach
all the patience I've had reserved.
I've always admired your strengh.
You said the same resides in me;
but it's hard to shake the grief
of what will eventually be.
Sitting at the kitchen table,
I hear Mom hang up the phone
and before I can inquire,
she softly whispers: "She's gone."
The next few days at home
hardly created a comfort zone;
I'm surrounded by loved ones,
but never felt more alone.
To make things worse, of course:
little sorrow was left to render
while trying to keep the peace
between fighting family members.
Violent words flew back and forth
as my heart underwent it's contortions
at the sight of your own children
arguing over who gets their portion.
My mind is in the mortuary,
but my heart is still at bay
so I request that they pull over
and let me walk the rest of the way.
I'm not the least bit nervous.
I know exactly what I'll say,
but it's hard to serve this purpose
while wishing you were here to stay.
The love you imparted always lasted.
None other felt so true to me.
That's what drew me near your casket
as I delivered this heartfelt eulogy;
and as a room of teardrops gathered
to show how much you would be missed,
I just gently stroked you hair
before offering you one final kiss.
A few years have passed by;
but you still thrive in memory.
Although I know you rest up high,
You still feel so near to me.
Seventeen years of living together
didn't always impart serenity;
but knowing you live in me forever
grants me unparalleled tranquility.
The hard times that we've endured
displayed our worst and very best;
but the relationship that emerged
truly withstood any and every test.
You gave all that you had for me.
I know that now, I'm far from able;
but I'll climb that chair again one day
and join you at God's kitchen table.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
Rest in Peace, Jeralyn Morris Metz. I love you more than my heart can ever express. Till we meet again, Grandmother. <3
Home »
» "The Kitchen Table"
"The Kitchen Table"
Penulis : Unknown on Thursday, 2 December 2010 | 01:07
Related posts:
If you enjoyed this article just click here, or subscribe to receive more great content just like it.
Your information will not be shared. Ever.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Post a Comment