Kayla Bachrach Hauer Given

Unfinished Stories, 1923 - 1987
 

First, a daughter and a sister
Born into an unkind environment
 snow, steel mills, shades drawn
The businessdad, the tiredmom, the brothers excel
 with so much more fanfare than you

Try to fly above the teasing with your
 beautiful Jewish nose and thick hair
Gawky body not yet grown into

Try to feel the love and support
As the family falters, regains balance,
 falters again

Find your wings on the way to California
Yosemite photos become you
Far away from the pain
 you try to leave behind

Working, good friends, finally alive
Theatre, symphony, museums
 all help ground you
First a husband, then your daughters,
 this is your family now

Sew cute matching outfits
Decorate from the magazines
Make something from the
 “I Hate to Cook” book
Music plays in the background
 as the dog barks to come in

Years fall away, along with the disappointing husband
Girls fly away, as you hoped they would
You travel, soak up the arts
A new romance, solid and loving
Can you relax and enjoy it this time?

Fate has other plans
Metastasized lung cancer, a cruel best friend
Sticks by you through thick and thin

You barely meet your grandson,
 never see your granddaughter
Staying strong, being brave, shutting down

We mourn your passing
We write the poems
We cry the tears
Move forward without you

We remember your ethics
Grounded in Jewish roots and
 social worker training
Your love for good friends
 Loyal and true
Your love for your daughters
 With your sweet and
 broken heart

We remember you in ways
That hurt and soothe
And miss you fiercely,
 forever

Honored by Cathy Hauer