Several years ago, I had a prophetic dream about the death of my paternal grandmother. It was a year before she died. (Which, I admit, surprised me, because I had had a similarly prophetic dream about my grandfather–her husband–and he died the next day, without my having really known he was ill. But I digress).
In that year, though, the dream really informed how I thought about her. It also informed how I thought about forgiveness in general and within families in particular.
Anyway, at the time, I wrote this poem for her.
Not being an Episcopalian in the least (see my FaceBook entry of yesterday) it is fair to expect that if the trumpet blows and the graves open later today, my grandmother will be among those on the rise. I’m sure the skies of Arkansas will be pretty crowded, but if you happen to get left behind, keep a lookout for Elsie, and give her a wave for me, okay?