For Grandma

For as long as I can remember
they’ve always told me
that I am the splitting image of you.
I have your cheeks, and your hair
and your slouch in my shoulders when I walk.

It’s true.
I have your cheeks,
and your hair.
And your slouch in my shoulders when I walk.
But now I know,
that it is so much more
than simply that.
Now I know
that there is so much more of you
in me.
Now, when I look in the mirror
and I see you
I see the weight that you bore,
I see the guilt that you carried –
the guilt of a matriarch
who felt as if she had bestowed upon her children
an unforgivable curse.
I see your pain,
your depression,
but I would never curse you for it.
Because now when I look in the mirror and
I see you,
I see your mind,
your sadness,
your struggle to face the world.
But I also see everything that you became despite.
I see how much of yourself you were able to give
to the world
and still remain mostly whole.
I see the mother,
the lover,
the teacher,
the giver.
I see
life.
I see the full life that you lived
in defiance of the dark chasms of your mind.