I Didn’t Know My Grandmother Was a Poet
until after she died.
Yeah, yeah— another grandmother poem, I know. But here’s the thing: you know that feeling when you do something cool, or get good news, or finally hit a goal, or spot a pink hummingbird perched on the very tip-top of a the pink dogwood tree in your back yard and your heart starts to stretch its pruny little fingers toward the person who would really get this moment? And then your real fingers reach for your phone, or you call down the hall, or whatever it is you usually do to reach out to the person you want to share this moment with?
For me, that person is my grandmother.
Was my grandmother.
Yesterday, I submitted my manuscript to my publisher. It’s a childhood dream finally realized, one my grandmother always encouraged (as most grandmothers do, she believed in me long before I ever did). Naturally, the first thing I wanted to do was call my grandmother and tell her. Some too-deep part of me always forgets for just long enough to feel that little jolt of heartbreak.
As you now know from the title of the poem I’m sharing with you today, I didn’t know my grandmother was a poet until about a year after she died. And I never got to tell her I became a poet. Aren’t we two peas in a goddamn pod.
Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read this poem. If you enjoyed it, let me know by dropping a comment or sharing it. Your support means the absolute world to me.
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This beautiful poem has inspired me. Would you be ok if I used this piece with my HS freshmen next year? It is the perfect jumping off point for a poetry writing unit.
In my late twenties, I threw away a bunch of notebooks from my early twenties. I remember what was in them and they didn't really deserve to be destroyed.
In my late thirties I'm kinder to myself than I was in my late twenties.
I wonder what motivated your grandmother to destroy hers. Maybe it was deeply personal. She wouldn't be around anymore to read them, so they didn't need to continue to exist. No one would be able to twist or abuse her legacy. I wonder how I'll feel about my own legacy when the time comes. Surely we all grapple with this.