For Hilary Poem by Melanie Walendowsky Baker

In death we can see
All of her glory
That was masked by mortal veils.
We can see now when
She succeeds and when she fails.

The sadness pours through
To those whom she knew,
But with strength, love and smiles
We can carry on forth,
Knowing her soul stretched on for miles.

Not so easily pleased
Yet pleasant when teased,
She could talk on for hours,
With my hanging on to every word,
For in all of her experience, oh such venerable powers.

She oozed her own style
She’d had her feminine wiles.
Just the things that she would say
About this, that or nothing,
And you just knew she’d done it all her own way!

She showed when she cared
Without her feelings bared.
She had her own ‘self’, she had her own grace
She could be displeased, yet
It all was there, in the corners of her face.

I’m not sure formidable is just one word I’d use
There are so many aspects to her, so many views.
But one view I know is never unswaying:
The battle horse she was, her triumphs and existence
We can easily respect, honour, and doing so praying;

For the woman who she was:
The mother, grand, and great-grand,
The widowed wife,
Who never gave in;
Who searched for answers
(and found them!)
Until the very end;
For this lady, Hilary,
so tough and true,
Oh, how proud am I
to have known you!

RIP

(Itajaí,12 May,2009)