Well, it’s December 6th. Another December date that I remember a loved one on their birthday. I have so many friends and family with birthdays in December. This morning though, I remember my Aunt Janette. Below, I have shared a poem that I wrote in honor of my aunt. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. I was fortunate enough to have a relationship with her right from the time I was born. Last night when I looked at my calendar, and I let the date register with me, I stopped and I thought about my wonderful aunt. She is still very much missed and I cannot wait to see her again, one day, in heaven. This morning, I remember her, and I share this poem I wrote a few years ago.
I wrote this poem the morning after my Aunt Janette went to see our Lord. I woke up on Saturday morning and had these words in my mind, waiting to be written. So I sat and I wrote them.
Then on Thursday of this week, I decided to see if I could find the pictures we took at Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Janette’s farm last July. I opened the folder on my computer and I burst in to tears. Because, there she was, my beautiful Aunt Janette, right in front of me. Furthermore, there were pictures of her holding the child’s hand, pictures of her lifting the frail to new heights, and pictures of her happy, healthy, and completely at ease in her element. So I decided to pull a few pictures and put them into a post here including the poem. I took some of these pictures and my daughter Erin took some too.Where’s that woman who used to embody farm? She would work and still pull off that striking charm There’s an empty spot in the garden over there A place vacated by the mother with golden hair Can I walk for a while where she would tread? O’er the grounds many visitors she had led That child’s hand isn’t held walking next to us It would’ve been by the girl who grew up in Texas May I enter her home and just sit for a while? I can smell the bread and still see the smile The room is full but something’s out-of-place There’s a smile missing, absent, a friendly face Can I say a little something to remember her by? How she’d reach for the frail and let them fly There are stories shared, each must be told Recalling the wife that never did look old Is it just me or is there happiness found here? “…there am I in the midst…”; He is near Gathered there is strength, and even more love Missing here, we need only smile and look above