Irene Cunningham...
today I bow my head. my grandmother, Irene Cunningham, passed away today around noon. she was 90 years old. I went to Tennessee to visit her yesterday with one of my sisters. she was resting. my mother and father were there, some of her friends. I sat with her and held her hand. she was not in any pain. I held her hand and read her a poem I'd just written for her. I couldn't get thru it. I will miss her. my heart aches for my father; he lost his mother. I am glad I knew her, glad I got to see her one last time, glad that she is at peace.
I write here because I have to write something.
birds outside
it is sunday morning.
the sun is shining.
it is
golden
streaming thru the big picture window
flooding over the chairs,
the sofa,
the pebbled surface of the walls.
the birds outside are singing.
blue jay
robin
a tiny yellow finch
a group of morning doves
sparrows chirping over a small patch
of seed.
a big crow
in the narrow driveway
leading up to the
little green house.
inside:
chicken salad and sawmill gravy
baseball games and Tiger Woods
photos of children
grandchildren
great-grandchildren.
laughter.
long life.
love.
and St. Francis
sowing seed
for the birds
upon the pebbled sunlit wall.
for my grandmother, my Ma-Maw, Irene Cunningham
I write here because I have to write something.
birds outside
it is sunday morning.
the sun is shining.
it is
golden
streaming thru the big picture window
flooding over the chairs,
the sofa,
the pebbled surface of the walls.
the birds outside are singing.
blue jay
robin
a tiny yellow finch
a group of morning doves
sparrows chirping over a small patch
of seed.
a big crow
in the narrow driveway
leading up to the
little green house.
inside:
chicken salad and sawmill gravy
baseball games and Tiger Woods
photos of children
grandchildren
great-grandchildren.
laughter.
long life.
love.
and St. Francis
sowing seed
for the birds
upon the pebbled sunlit wall.
for my grandmother, my Ma-Maw, Irene Cunningham
posted by christopher cunningham at 1:19 PM
7 Comments:
my condelences and sympathy, Christopher. Your grandmother will live on with your words.
My condolences. It sounds like she lived a full life and had a good death at home.
thanks my friends.
she lived a good life indeed and passed very peacefully. we smile with our memories.
thanks again.
I look forward to your arrival, sis. I saw her face while Dylan and Gage squawked on the phone, while you spoke...she was AWARE, I know this...I watched her eyes behind closed lids, moving moving moving, DREAMING, she could see it all. I am sure. it must have been beautiful, sharing that time with everyone in her mind, hearing the voices of her children and grandchildren, all her friends, the singing from her church, all of it...
all of it.
I am sure.
and you were there.
we all were.
everyone.
Al, and thanks for noting the 'good death...'
it is what we all should hope for. a long well fought life, given over to the good things, the beautiful, insisting on what's right, what inspires, what furthers the fucking human condition.
and then a good death.
what more is there?
My condelences, my friend, to you
and your family. This was a wonderful poem in tribute to your grandmother, Irene Cunningham.
It's difficult to write under such
trying times. I'm sure your grandmother would have love these words.
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