Gran's Afgans (You Promised)
This was written back in 1994, the very first time I truly dealt with death of a close loved one--my gran was everything to me at the time--not only was I her and my great grandma's namesake; but she had a way of making me feel like I was the most special thing on the planet. She had a tradition of making afghans for each of her children, their wives, then her grandchildren, and then great-grandchildren. She had made me mine the year before. I went to see her two weeks before she died, and we had planned on my coming up again in a couple of months so she could finally teach me how to crochet so I could begin making afghans for my very own family someday. Sadly, that never happened.
Her death totally crushed me at the time--that was the very first time in my life that I couldn't stop crying...it wouldn't be the last, but at the time I thought it so strange and very intense....Ever since, I have had a very powerful spiritual connection with her, for which I'm profoundly grateful and which I cherish and treasure. She makes me laugh, she makes me cry, she still makes me feel like the most special thing on the planet, only now it's from the other side of the veil....Here's to you, Velma Jane Jeffries Farley.
You promised to make my babies afghans, too,
when the time came. But you've gone away.
I promise to raise them loving you as I do.
I cried out in anguish, begging for you
to hold out a little longer--'til my 21st birthday.
You promised to make my babies afghans, too.
I know, such a selfish, naive thing for me to do,
but I never really had a chance to say,
"I'll promise to raise them loving you as I do."
A year has passed, and I still remember you
giggling in bed, slyly wink in your way.
But. You promised to make my babies afghans, too.
You're the sweetest dearest friend I ever knew.
You made me treasure every part of life each day.
I promise to raise them loving you as I do.
It aches to say goodbye, it's true--
Hugs, kisses, stories--in our minds to stay.
You promised to make my babies afghans, too.
And I promise I'll raise them with memories of you.
Her death totally crushed me at the time--that was the very first time in my life that I couldn't stop crying...it wouldn't be the last, but at the time I thought it so strange and very intense....Ever since, I have had a very powerful spiritual connection with her, for which I'm profoundly grateful and which I cherish and treasure. She makes me laugh, she makes me cry, she still makes me feel like the most special thing on the planet, only now it's from the other side of the veil....Here's to you, Velma Jane Jeffries Farley.
You promised to make my babies afghans, too,
when the time came. But you've gone away.
I promise to raise them loving you as I do.
I cried out in anguish, begging for you
to hold out a little longer--'til my 21st birthday.
You promised to make my babies afghans, too.
I know, such a selfish, naive thing for me to do,
but I never really had a chance to say,
"I'll promise to raise them loving you as I do."
A year has passed, and I still remember you
giggling in bed, slyly wink in your way.
But. You promised to make my babies afghans, too.
You're the sweetest dearest friend I ever knew.
You made me treasure every part of life each day.
I promise to raise them loving you as I do.
It aches to say goodbye, it's true--
Hugs, kisses, stories--in our minds to stay.
You promised to make my babies afghans, too.
And I promise I'll raise them with memories of you.
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OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!