A love that never grows old (2011)

Grandma wrings her bare fingers together nervously,

as she watches me untie the ribbon

that has guarded the dusty box for so long.

She holds her breath as I slide off the lid,

to reveal a glimmer of gold within.

 

She reaches into the depths

of the box full of memories,

and emerges with the final fragment

of the love they had shared.

 

She traces the circle with her fingers,

the perfect, complete circle that has no end.

 

She remembers the first time

Grandad slid it onto her youthful finger,

As he promised her a life together

Till death did them part.

 

She remembers the shimmer of the gold

between Grandad’s fingers whenever

he held her petite hands in his,

or when she ruffled his hair through her fingers.

 

She remembers watching it heave

To the rhythm of his breath

As she laid on his chest

Each lazy Sunday morning.

 

She remembers me clasping onto it

as a newborn making sense of this world,

while Grandad holds her and I close

in his embrace, bringing us into his world.

 

She remembers watching wrinkles

slowly swallowing it within its folds

while Grandad gently smooths her skin

and thanks her

for letting him grow old with her.

 

She remembers twisting it nervously

with her trembling fingers

in the sterile doctor’s surgery

as her husband’s death sentence is pronounced.

 

Then, she remembers it clenched

in his frail hands,

hoping she could hold him so tight

death could not separate them.

 

But no matter how tight her grip,

she remembers how his hands,

his life,

had slipped out of hers.

 

Now she feels her barren finger,

and the loneliness it has borne for so long,

reminding her of what she has lost,

of what she’s no longer got.

 

She tries to slide it on,

but her fingers are now plump

and filled with loose creases,

with nobody to smooth down.

 

Grandma lets out a loud sigh

of defeat and sadness,

as if she had let Grandad down,

had lost even this last fragment of hope.

 

I take out another box

and untie the ribbon

that has guarded this dusty box for so long,

and sliding off the lid to reveal a glimmer of gold within.

 

This one is also a circle without end,

just as perfect and complete.

 

Only this one is a little bigger.

It was once fit for a man,

but now, it fits perfectly for Grandma.