Wednesday, May 18, 2011


driving home under
a blue sky,
blue with angel wing clouds
and Funeral for a Friend
on the radio, remembering the day...

church filled with red and white roses
brought to every funeral by my Godfather
a reminder of His blood shed to make us pure

prayers and memories offered for a man who
couldn't remember anymore
final years spent in the childlike
oblivion of Alzheimer's disease

long-forgotten relatives
shyly work to carry on a
conversation, struggling
to remember one another

"Ah, you're a Reindl"
I'm told again and again
family of origin features
prominently on my face
but no one remembers which
one of the nine I am, exactly,
just a vaguely familiar
face in the crowd

kolaches on the dessert table
in honor of the now-deceased aunt
who always made them
the warm, loving and holy woman
widowed young with the passing of her husband
while child thirteen was still a babe

nearly 500 crammed into the church
for her funeral back then with
Mass lasting over three hours
containing many loving, tearful memories
and three priests all crying
for the loss of her life

I make kolaches, too-
will I be remembered with
hours of tears and stories
when my time comes to pass from this life?
Will three priests cry for me
when I'm gone?

"She must have been a Reindl-
now tell me which one."
and some will answer,
"You know, the baby of the family,
the one who made kolaches."

But what does it matter whether or not
his memories were stolen by a disease
or she is lovingly remembered by many
or I am only remembered by my place in the
family line and my baking skills?

for the Father in heaven
holds all of us together
in the palm of His hand
and He will never forget...
not one little cell in our body
goes unnoticed
not one hair on our head is

I am known
I am known
and will always be
for who I am
and for what I've done...
to my Father in heaven
I am known


  1. So beautiful, Anne. I love the prayer of St. John Vianney on your site too.

  2. This is so beautiful Anne! Lady, you sure know how to write and I guarantee you'll be remembered for far more than the kolaches you've made. Besides, you invited me to your funeral. Don't you remember the comment about your own funeral you wrote to me when we were talking about feeling sorry for ourselves and I giggled for days about it? It still makes me smile!