I couldn't know your pain when I was young. An absentee grandmother loaded with wanderlust. Grandpa, unduly befriending dad and compressing us with his lucre. Beating you with his contempt for your motherhood. I sensed grandpa before I knew him. Jammed by societal beliefs, T-boned by an unwanted unscheduled misunderstanding, and having to grow through your violence to love me. Giving in to "life" and "the american dream" never boarding (your) cruise. You, the model flower, thirsting for your self. Enshrined in a black and white swing your smile telling the truth. 40 hour ill-communication never fit. Not like rolling with the punches and stuck zippers did. My motivation for baking and icing my love for you one February. Dad, flying the unwilling into his career. Therapists, looking for answers in a cereal box. Unheeding my suggestion admirably attempting to defy the odds. Again. Feeling your liquified locomotive of pain bore through me hauling loads of time away. This secondary killer,gaining momentum, its slipstream vacuuming your flesh away with my love. Me, ever hoping for a derailment. The phone call. October 31, 3:00A.M. 1993 One bond broken, another, deeper bond born. In your will you left, strength of persona, thoughts of the possible. And black and white Inspiration.