My earliest memory of you
has to be at the pool.
Summer was always our time
long days
sun, sweat, and chlorine
buttered noodles
Ham and cheese.
As far back as I can recollect
spinning my tape until the reels click empty
you’ve been my home away from home.
Until it wasn’t safe for you to live alone.

My mom and dad weren’t together
at any age I’ve the capacity to remember.
You and grandpa
were the couple I based
my expectations of love on.
Deep, strong, non-demonstrative love.
Like a midsummer oak
towering, mighty, beautiful.
I only saw you fight once
in nearly twenty years.
He had invited folks over
you didn’t have time to clean.

You were five foot even
if even that.
I learned you loved Elvis
you liked to dance
and to laugh.
You taught me how to drive
both stick and automatic.
You taught me to make sausage gravy.
I still make it, the same way
no measurements
no recipe
just love and feeling
and a grandiose amount of pepper.

When you lost your husband
and I a grandfather
you became most special to me.
You were my best friend in those years.
As the medicines increased
and the mazes in your mind lengthened
when you struggled with the rules of Phase Ten
after we’d played together for years.
My small family tree was blossoming
I saw one family ending
as another was just beginning.  
I remember asking “how will I love
the boys as much as Vivian?”
‘You’ll love them all. The same.
In their own special ways.’
Like most advice you delivered
it has rung true.
I think that’s one of the biggest things I miss
now that you are no longer completely you.
My confidante and my advisor
who never let me leave with an un-ironed shirt.
My biggest fan and honest critic.

I know you don’t like your full governmental
hell, you went by your middle name.
But Wilma is close to William
and my boy will always carry it forward,
just the same.
Each year has pushed us farther apart.
I still remember that Thanksgiving
I took the whole week off
just to spend it with you.
We swung on the porch
and took in the stars
I know we had some ice cream
butter pecan
diabetes be damned.
You got to meet my wife
and get to know her before the wrinkles
that once brought you such concern
deepened into ravines, and shadowed your face.
I see confusion in your eyes now
more than your spark or your fire.
But when I bring the kids ‘round
The sparkle is back
and you are yourself again.
It’s poignant that such small things
bring about great change.
The intersection
of a star with decaying orbit
and newly born planets
astronomical splendor.