My Hungarian Grandmother A Farmer's Wife.

WE lost a great women yesterday. She lived 100 years on this earth and graced it with ever present kindness and beauty. Living all of her life in Hungary kept her at a great distance from us , a distance that I regret. My sister who not only is a talented designer but also a wonderful writer truly captured the essence of my Hungarian grandmother in this poem. Enjoy and have a beautiful weekend.
I Wish I Knew Her Better
The smile of a child
the strength to carry the world
the selflessness of a new mother
the kindness of a warm breeze.
She worked but never struggled
she tired but never complained
she made feasts from morning til night
and she hid all of her pain.
A farmer’s wife
a mother of war
her last wish she’d give it to you
if you were family
she would give you more
and then she’d ask, “What more can I do?”
We’ll never know
what were her dreams
when she went shyly to the dances
of what she yearned for, her hopes or fears
of what she may have thought romance was.
One hundred years
one house
one life
no fancy thrills
no where to run to.
But change there was
but heartache, strife
but war and loss
“What more could I do?”
Forever staying, praying, waiting
waiting, waiting
waiting for you.
A warm duvet
a fresh killed chicken
plum dumplings, donuts
the freshest greens.
Of sad farewells, joyful returns
the sweetest eyes
a hearth to cling to.
Your legs so bowed
your soul so sweet
your love so deep
I guess
I knew you.
In honor of Maria Dancsecs Dolgos Feb. 24, 1914 - Oct. 9, 2014