Final Inscription

My Nana R always knew I was a gifted writer from the very first poem I wrote. My Nana R passed away on March 15th of this year; she was 92 years old. Today was the day that my mom brought my Nana R home; her ashes beautifully encased in a butterfly urn. My mom also brought home a collection of pictures, trinkets, jewelry, and the scrapbook; a handmade Christmas gift I made for both my Nana and Papa R.

I haven’t seen, or held this scrapbook in 23 years. I forgot all about it, until I saw it in my mom’s hands. I recognized the binding cover. My mom was scouring each and every page. I could see tears streaming down her cheeks, as she looked up and said “Do you remember this?” In an instant, I was transported back in time. I saw myself sitting on my bedroom floor of the home I grew up in. Gel pens in hand, my electronic typewriter humming, and I could hear the newly purchased HP laser jet printer happily spitting out page, after page, after page.

My mom handed me the scrapbook, and I opened it to the first page. Written in shiny silver gel pen was a date and inscription; “December 25, 2000. To Grandma and Grandpa. Here is a gift from the heart. I hope you will enjoy it. I love you. Jennie. xoxo” I ran my right hand over the ink, and just like that …. I was Jennie with an “ie” and 17 again.

I slowly started turning the pages inside, and that’s when I began to cry. Almost every single poem that I wrote as a teenager was there. Page, after page, after page. I thought I would never see any of this writing again. The original penned book that these poems were in; long burnt in a house fire on November 4, 2004.

Holding this scrapbook in my hands was a surreal moment today. I accepted that these pieces of youthful, treasured writing would only be read by the universe. Countless teenage poetry; hand written using predominantly pink ink, curled up with a flashlight under my blankets. I accepted that these early pages of writing were burned, singed, and turned to ashes. I accepted that the 6 foot flames consumed each piece, in the dead of that November Winter storm.

Today, was a reminder from Nana R that even when we think something has left completely, it’s simply an illusion that we’ve created. Illusions meant to block our path, a coping mechanism meant only to rationalize our experiences in a linear way. Once we have learned the lessons, and close out a cycle in our life … then we are gifted back what we lost.

Today’s return of this handmade scrapbook is the validation I needed. The exact reminder of how far I have come on my journey. Nana R gifted me back pieces of myself that I thought I lost forever. Each poem reminding me of the driving force within my soul. A reminder to me why I love writing, and painting portraits in people’s minds with words.

Final Inscription:

To Nana and Papa R,

Your souls live on in the waves of the sea, the warmth of the sun, the sound of the birds, and the music in our hearts. Carry your souls on the wings of an Angel, and may you both sing a tune to the notes of the wind. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, return to the universe now you both must.

I love you Nans. I love you Paps. I hope you’re both dancing to Crystal Chandelier on the Milky Way. “Jennie”

💋 xoxo – @scarlettangel777