Livie: a tribute to my granddaughter
Yesterday was a hard day. We got together and celebrated Olivia Jane’s life.
With white balloons that we released to heaven. Before I let mine go, I kissed it.
Here is a poem I shared at her gravesite.
Although you were so very small, you taught us many things,
like living in the present so we don’t miss anything.
You taught us things that matter, are the little things around,
like making daddy laugh because you made a farting sound.
You showed us pure contentment in such a simple way;
you’d shake your pumpkin rattle and you’d hit your head each day.
You showed us how to head-dance, with rhythm and with grace
and we could tell you liked it by the look upon your face.
You showed us it’s the tender things that make a heart feel glad,
like a hundred little kisses from your mom or from your dad.
You taught us we should stop awhile, to share a smile or two,
like Ruthie, Jude, and Charlie who would share their smiles with you.
You were a little fighter and you taught us how to fight;
for every single thing you tried, you tried with all your might.
Livie, we’re so proud of you and all that you have done,
your life has touched so many lives, for such a little one.
I wanted to do more with you, to watch you as you play;
to push you in the baby swings and hear you laugh each day.
And oh, I wanted so, to share the stories from my head,
to maybe tuck you in sometime, and kiss your precious head.
But God had something else in mind the day you slipped away,
and now you are with Jesus every moment, every day.
I’ll save the stories from my head, my hugs and kisses too;
and when I come to heaven I will share them all with you.
And on the days when I will gaze in skies so clear and blue,
I’ll think of looking in your eyes, the way I used to do.
About Anne Peterson
I write words you can feel, sometimes they rhyme. If I'm not writing, I'm telling stories from my head, to little ones who call me grandma.