“I want to believe that a malnourished girl who once hid from Nazis will float through a door in a Givenchy gown and, though guile and charm and kindness, transport all of us. I want to believe in Audrey Hepburn.” –Tennessee Williams/Interview with James Grissom/1982/
I tremble at this face… afraid to look too close,
perhaps I’ll see my mother’s, or even mine…
But knowing there’s nothing to gain if you don’t get hurt a little, I look.
I look, and know I owe you an apology.
Grandma, I owe you an apology,
because I didn’t look too closely before.
I owe you an apology for not seeing beyond
the aproned grandmother – to see this woman in the world.
I owe you an apology for all the time I let slip through my hands,
time for me to get to know you better, time for you to know me –
and it’s hard to look now, to see beyond the mask of time passed…
for that I owe you an apology…
But I do see your daughter, my mother –
and for that I owe you thanks.
I see her very well.
I watched her quiet strength, on days when it was a struggle just to get out of bed.
I watched her graceful fight to reclaim her own heart.
I watched her curse at cancer and conquer.
I see now her smile, and I hear her laughter,
and I feel her glow when she’s happy – and she is happy.
She’s a good woman, Grandma. She’s a good person.
She’s my friend, my mother, your daughter, and I do see her.
So in a small way – I guess I see you too.
I believe the good passes on from soul to heart,
and for that I owe you a promise,
that I will do my best to let all who can, see the goodness
that you both have passed on to me,
and maybe, when they really look at me,
on one of my best days, they’ll see you…
and your beauty will make them tremble.