The Unfinished Dance

Almost every day that comes, finds me thinking about my grandma in some way.  Her smile, her voice, all bursting with life and energy, her fast step and joyfully impulsive nature, like a dance she always managed to leave unfinished somehow...
Her warm embrace with strong, farm worked arms, her laugh, still girlish, but seasoned with experiences, and life accepted and savored in the acceptance.
The way she loved coffee and how she held her cup up high, as if to cheer the glory of life with one sip at a time.
Her sparkling eyes and will to live, her suffering, as she resisted death, and fought it back with all her strong might.
It's all forever etched within my soul, like a growing tree with branches stretched out.  It's all in the tear hanging from the corner of my eye.  And it stays in the tear, silent and ripening each day. 
I keep on walking with the same unfinished dance she passed on, I smile and say, "This is my happiness now, this is my time to be thankful for..."
While thousands of miles away, in a country cemetery, at her grave, grandma's flowers are the most beautiful, I'm being told.  Vigorously growing, bursting with color and life, singing in the rhythm of the unfinished dance.


(image: "Forest Clearing" by Romanian painter, Nicolae Grigorescu)