My Mourning Writing

A distant memory for my little brothers

A good memory for Alex and I

Many great memories for my mom 

And thousands for my grandma. 

Three and a half generations under her

There are memories

I don't remember too much but I remember her smile

I remember the nursing home she lived in a while

I remember her voice

I remember the love that went through all of the noise

I remember her eyes

The gentle eyes that showed she was beautiful and wise

I remember walking through the courtyard in New Jersey

Hearing her and my grandmother talk while we watched the birdies

I remember countless phone calls

Grandma would talk in her native tounge as I listened through the walls

Trying to catch the beautiful language they spoke

And then I broke

I had a dream one day that I could speak Spanish with Mamia and say

Tell me about your life

I know i love you and I know you love me but tell me about your life

Because I don't know much at all. Tell me about Puerto Rico

Tell me how it is to live where everything beautiful grows

Can I tell you about me? I play drums and guitar and music, see

I wanted to know her because I knew I loved her through what I saw in my grandmother

My old teacher of español

Told me that spanish will be the language of heaven

And I believed it. I still believe it. 

So some day, I will get to talk to Mamia all day

I will share with her

And she will share with me

Happy, like a family

Because that smile and that voice and the love that came out of her mouth

And her eyes, gentle, beautiful, and wise

I can't wait to get to know her. 

Tonight while we eat

We are thinking of you

And while you walk on gold streets

Know that I love you