the ground is wet with tears
as we stand at her funeral.
she was old and deteriorating,
had gone by a nickname her entire life,
she was a tough woman.
nobody regrets her time spent.
she was tough and broad shouldered,
heavyset and unafraid to vouch for herself.
two weeks ago, she called my dress pretty.
she talked about my hair, asking how
i managed with it every day,
seeing how long it was getting lately.
and now? now she is gone.
but she remains, in a way.
she is like rain, and petrichor her legacy.
so, to my dear great-great aunt,
i give you a challenge, as in time the
title of practical family matriarch
will be a mantle taken up by me.
this is my challenge,
one you will not fail to fufil,
because you were a fearsome woman
and now you remain a fearsome memory:
be as fierce as you were in life.
if the afterlife really exists, i am comforted
with the knowledge that you still will not
ever take anybody's flak.
not now, not ever.