Come, Grandmother, and sit next to me in my garden. We shall have breakfast under the vine, and we shall see the morning light glow upon the leaves that bear your name, Edera – Italian Ivy.
I know, it is foggy now, but all the mist shall pass.
You will see, it will be so quick – just the time of some coffee together, and this soft, white veil shall disperse in the October sky.
I know you want to follow it and go up, up…high up in the sky, and maybe watch me as I fret to prepare all this for you – for us. But, I pray to you, stay with me just a little longer. It took so long for you to get here. 93 years are far longer than I can imagine.
Your eyes saw so much, and yet kept their enchanted, child-like glow.
I met so many people, you know? Most of the time, they were complicated people. But maybe it is life itself that is complicated, and there are so many things you do not know of the outside world.
You only need few simple things to be happy. I can hear your voice on the phone, so happy that I called.
As you say ‘hi, love’, I can find in your slightly sorrowful voice the certainty that you brought kindness in this world, and you did so through your modest, quiet soul, and your child-at-heart attitude that has never left you.
I know you have to go, and I do not mean to keep you. It’s just that I am going to miss you so much, and I really wish you could stay a little longer… but I do not mean to be selfish, I figured out a while ago that everything is borrowed in this life.
Slender hands, blue eyes and copper-blonde hair are just a tiny part of what I inherited from you. There is a universe of love within me that will follow you wherever you go.
Enjoy this new journey, dear grandma Eda.
I will stay a little longer, and listen to your voice in the rustling of the leaves.
In beloved memory of Edera Molin, 1924-2017.