A few years ago I was blessed to meet a great man, John .  Meeting his family was something special with all their "traditions" and personalities.  Their closeness touched me as they openly embraced me and welcomed me into their family.  I had the pleasure of traveling to Texas to visit with John's parents on several occasions, enjoying every moment I spent with Olympia and "Pop" as he is lovingly known...  When Olympia passed away earlier this month the loss was clear, but more than the sense of loss there was an uplifting feeling of life, of love, and of the impressions she made on all of those who knew her.  John's niece, Morgan, wrote a beautiful poem to her grandma Olympia when she found out she was sick.  Morgan was able to share her thoughts with her grandma before she passed and Olympia kept her special tribute from Morgan in the nightstand beside her bed.  Today, I would like to share Morgan's poem with you, it is definitely a memory for Olympia's KSpirit Case....  I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you Morgan Carricarte for allowing us to share your beautiful tribute to your Grandma, Olympia Carricarte, and the whole Carricarte family.

Grandma Carricarte

By Morgan Carricarte

 

Memories are indestructible despite sickness and health

They cannot be tampered with or even dealt.

Much like love, they are not tangible but are without a doubt free

Infinite amounts, there will always be

 

Such love and memories result from past experiences and thoughts

Like Sandy, the dog, frantically sniffing visitors to embarking in late night talks

Grandma’s house was the house to be

From no age at all, to the age of 16

 

A cliché statement would suggest

A ‘Grandma’s house’ like all the rest

Homemade cookies and Thanksgiving dinners

Ancient board games with losers and winners

 

I wouldn’t be lying when I say

That Grandma’s house was slightly cliché

We endured recipes and dyed Easter eggs

We talked about boys and shaving our legs

 

 I introduced her to a new generation

Stealing her from Jazz to enter the Pop sensation

Although there was no point in listening to the radio in the car

Because we shared family gossip on trips near and far

 

She and I shopped, every year, for my Father- Daughter Dance dress

At a time when I only had her son to impress

And when we got home and were still sharing a clothes- connection

She would let me enter one of her six closets and try on her collection

 

Her clothes were innumerable and most times out-dated

But that didn’t stop us from the fun we created

And after that we would find a picture album or share a story

Possibly about Dad when he was little or there would be a visit from Aunt Lori

 

Her neighbors were always around for a regular invasion

But none of this was possible without Grandma in the equation

Small children came to visit to see “Linda and Lou”

The door was always open and to walk in, one just knew

 

Grandma’s relationship with Sandy was one of the best

“Louie call the dog” she would often express

Anytime the dog would walk on the kitchen floor and “tippy tap”

It was sure to push Grandma to an immediate snap

Many- a- dog called 11 California Avenue a home

In the fenced in backyard they would roam

 

Every once in a while they might walk by

The ‘radiation birdbath’ that stood quite high

My brother, Louis, named it due its lack birds willing to stop

Grandma just laughed and blamed it on Pop-Pop

 

Louis also favored Grandma’s cheese tray

Rubbermaid from the 60’s holding cheeses and crackers that lay

 

This talk of food brings me the kitchen next,

My train of thought is obvious, I do digress.

One time we experimented and tried to make “flan”

Nothing rhymes with that, but I will go on

Somehow the recipe card from 1966

Called for twelve eggs to add to the mix

Needless to say that flan was quite goopy

It restored our request for a gelatin and turned out rather soupy

 

Chocolate donuts in the fridge was quite key

When Louis and I would spend the night, the second shelf they would be

With the apple juice she bought just for us

And the dinner left-overs when, once again, she made way too much

 

Thanksgiving was the holiday when Grandma would shine

She set up a beautiful table, her seat always next to mine

One year I learned what a charger was,

A decorative plate beneath your real one, just because

Also, I loved having a salt and pepper shaker all to my own

And staying with Grandma even after my parents went home

 

She would watch the News in the den

And fight the clock to stay up past ten,

In the mornings though, you could trust her to be up

In her pink sweat suit drinking out of her pale-blue coffee cup

She would clip coupons or write on the calendar,

She noted everyone’s birthday, even people that lived before her

I would watch her from the couch of silky white

That one wouldn’t dare to put shoes on, to ruin its delight

 

Despite my family’s location she and Pop-Pop were sure to visit

Tennessee, Maryland, Pennsylvania, there was no limit

But the constant, indeed, was their white-paneled home

With the 70’s mirror and a cord on the phone

The house itself holds different memories for everyone

But I, myself, recall memories of only fun

 

Ultimately, where Grandma lives has no bearing

On the love and memories that we will always be sharing

She is a special person to all of us, in our own unique way

At times, it is indescribable, I must say.

This is not intended to advocate a longing for the past

But, instead, a reminder that time went so fast

Growing up I watched Grandma be a great sister, friend, mother, and wife
And with admiration toward her she has shaped much of my life