"True love is free..."
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Opening / Why I Wrote This Poem
In September 2022, I lost a very important person to me. My grandmother who I was named after passed away. She was in her nineties and had lived a very long life, so I had the honor of sharing her company well into my own adulthood.
After she passed away, I found myself searching the internet trying to find a poem that could communicate the profound grief that one feels when they are someone's namesake and who they are named after passes away. It did not take me long to realize my search for such a poem was difficult. Therefore, I wrote such a poem myself as a tribute to my grandmother.
Here is what I believe is the best poem I have ever written. It matches my grandmother, who was one of the best people I ever had the privilege to know.
Grandma Riding a Horse
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The Namesake - A Poem for Grandma
Written by: Her Namesake
I always watched this lady,
Because I always knew,
That I was named after her,
And so my curiosity grew.
She was born during a time of lack,
The Great Depression was in full swing.
She grew up working on a farm,
Learning how to take so little and help it sing.
She was not always loud,
But she had gentle eyes,
She loved to read books,
And her words were always wise.
She made the best hot cakes,
She could just look at a seed and it would grow,
No matter how many times I talked to her,
There was always more to know.
Her and I had a lot in common,
We loved to bake and cook,
We could talk for hours and hours,
And we revered many a good book.
She was raised tough and durable,
She was sharpened by the way she lived her life,
She was never rusted by tears,
She was a strong mother and dedicated wife.
She would always intently listen,
And ask us about our lives,
Her love was unconditional,
And is still immortal as it survives.
She rarely said I love you,
In spoken words aloud,
But her eyes always expressed it to us,
Because the standing sparkle was proud.
She lived a long life,
And outlived many,
That was a testament to her will,
And the surrounding love aplenty.
True love is free,
Without condition, pretense, or eyes on gain,
Like a grandmother's love,
It comes freely like the rain.
I will miss her a lot,
Her existence inspired my name,
Now that she is gone,
My identity does not feel the same.
It feels like a part of me is missing,
That it went with her to the sky,
Like a gust of wind in the desert,
It disappeared fast without saying goodbye.
I will miss my beacon,
The heart and laugh that could light up any room,
Her existence made me who I am,
And helped me continue to bloom.
How can I live up to a lady,
Who was loved and embodied love beyond measure,
The only thing I can do is continue to be me,
And treat life like a treasure.
She herself was an incredible treasure,
But we did not have to follow the trail to an X on a map,
Her love was all around us,
Across a room, on the other end of a phone, or sitting in her lap.
Originally written in September 2022; Recited on Nevada Day (October 31st) Weekend 2022.
"She made the best hot cakes"
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"She could just look at a seed and it would grow"
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"...And we revered many a good book"
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"It feels like a part of me is missing..."
Display in the Warm Springs Natural Area in Moapa Valley, NV
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"...That it went with her to the sky"
Notice How The Clouds Are Reflected in the Water
Gives the Illusion of Being Two Places at Once
Original Photo Taken By Poet at Piute Reservoir in Piute County, Utah
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"Like a gust of wind in the desert..."
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"...It disappeared fast without saying goodbye"
Because there is nothing faster than a dust devil in the desert...
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"I will miss my beacon..."
A sunset for Grandma
She loved watching the sunset from her porch.
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Poet's Notes: The Inspiration
I REALLY loved my grandmother and I still miss her. When I wrote this, I had the altruistic of all motives: to write a tribute to a loved one to honor her.
"Like a grandmother's love..."
Photo of Poet Being Held By Grandmother
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"...It comes freely like the rain"
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Grandma's Story
"But her eyes always expressed it to us..."
Summer 2012 Tour of the Hoover Dam (Boulder Dam)
Poet Photo Use Here is an Intentional Juxtaposition
As If To Say: My Eyes Are Sparkling At Her Now
"...Because the standing sparkle was proud"
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My great-grandfather was a farmer, and all of his children were girls. Grandma was essentially his "boy." She did farm work, rode horses, became a Rodeo Queen, and grew up with the nickname "Butch."
So perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that when I tried converting the original photograph of her on a horse to cartoon, the internet repeatedly decided that the person on the horse must be a boy. Apparently, Grandma's "boy" status followed her into the digital age. 😂
After I Wrote It
Being Chosen as a Speaker IS Like Knighthood
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My dad and one of my aunts liked the poem so much that I was invited to recite it in person at my grandmother's funeral. Having my family receive my words so warmly was one of the experiences that made me think poetry might actually be my thing.
Thinking Lady - Is Writing Poetry My Thing?
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Years later, I entered the poem in several single-poem contests because I thought it might be a meaningful way to preserve my grandmother's memory. I hoped that publication or recognition might help carry her memory forward.
It did not win in the contests I entered. However, the contest results don't change what the poem means to me. It accomplished its original purpose long before I ever submitted it: I wrote it for her.
Writing Whether With Keys or Pens
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For awhile, I wrote poetry manuscripts, entered them into book contests, and thought I might try my hand at becoming a writer. Being a ravenous bookworm, writing had actually been the career I dreamed about in high school. My parents had other ideas: "No. Be an engineer." 😅 And, well... I earned degrees in engineering and math.
In hindsight, this poem also became an early predecessor to "The Tale of Two Patricks." The tradition of namesakes in that later poem resonated with me because I am a namesake myself. The experience of being named after someone--and then having to figure out what that inheritance of identity means after losing them--was something I had already explored here with my grandmother. 😉
This poem was written specifically as a tribute to my grandmother and to the experience of being her namesake. I am sharing it because I hope its themes of love, identity, memory, and grief may resonate with others who have experienced a similar loss.
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