Express the depth of a grandchild’s love: 10 shattering poems for grandma funeral from grandkids

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Losing a grandmother is heart-wrenching.

As grandkids, we often struggle to find the right words to express our grief and love.

Here are 10 poignant poems that capture the essence of what it means to say goodbye to a beloved grandmother.

Let’s get straight to it!

My favorite poem for grandma funeral from grandkids

#1 “The Death-bed” by Thomas Hood

We Watched

We watch’d her breathing thro’ the night,
Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seem’d to speak,
So slowly moved about,
As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied–
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came dim and sad,
And chill with early showers,
Her quiet eyelids closed–she had
Another morn than ours.

Losing a grandmother profoundly shifts our world.

“The Death-bed” by Thomas Hood captures this loss with vivid imagery that mirrors our experiences of watching her fade away.

Each line resonates with the pain and tenderness of those final moments, embodying the deep connection we shared.

The poem reflects our hopes and fears, helping us navigate the turmoil of saying goodbye.

9 more poems for grandma funeral from grandkids

#2 “The Gift of Death” by Roger L. Sergel

I Cannot

I cannot lose you, dear, let come what may,
For you are with me as a melody
And have been through the ages. I can see
No time in all times that within me stay
When you were not the worth of every day.
The names I called you by have passed from me,
The forms I loved you in perhaps will be
Again sweet woman forms of loveliest clay.
And then, perhaps, you may be as a breath
Of rosy flame along the narrowing west;
For even now in all that I love best
Your name starts as a music—and the hue
Of beauty trembles through me. Dear, in death
I’ll find, not immortality, but you.

#3 “A Death-Bed” by James Aldrich

Her Suffering

Her suffering ended with the day;
Yet lived she at its close,
And breathed the long, long night away,
In statue-like repose.
But when the sun, in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through glory’s morning-gate,
And walked in Paradise!

#4 “On The Death Of A Lady” by Maria Gowen Brooks

Thy Home

Thy home seemed not of earth – so blest
But there has fall’n a shaft of fate
The dove is stricken; and the nest
She warmed and cheered is desolate.

But fairest not for thee, we mourn:
Blest from thy birth, thou still art so
The tear must dew thine early urn
For him whom thou hast taught to know

The zest of joys – complete, as knows
Thy vital flame, the pang that tost
And changed thee past, where now it glows
Knowing, yet feeling all is lost.

There is a flower of tender white
And, on its spotless bosom, play
The moon’s soft beams, one lovely night;
But when appears the morning ray

‘Tis shut and withered – even now
Around your lime I see it wave;
‘Tis pure, and fresh, and fair, as thou
And sinks in beauty to its grave.

#5 “Crossing the Bar” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sunset And

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have cross’d the bar.

#6 “The Death Watch” by Mary Carolyn Davies

A Tree

A tree falls in the blast,
The other trees are sighing;
Fast burn the candles—fast.
She is long dying.
A flower fades in the sun,
The other flowers are weeping;
See! Dawn’s at last begun.
Dead—or but sleeping?
A star falls, tired from flight,
The other stars are flying;
It is o’erpast, the night—
She is long dying.

#7 “Farewell” by Anne Bronte

Farewell To

Farewell to thee! but not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.

O, beautiful, and full of grace!
If thou hadst never met mine eye,
I had not dreamed a living face
Could fancied charms so far outvie.

If I may ne’er behold again
That form and face so dear to me,
Nor hear thy voice, still would I fain
Preserve, for aye, their memory.

That voice, the magic of whose tone
Can wake an echo in my breast,
Creating feelings that, alone,
Can make my tranced spirit blest.

That laughing eye, whose sunny beam
My memory would not cherish less;
And oh, that smile! whose joyous gleam
Nor mortal language can express.

Adieu, but let me cherish, still,
The hope with which I cannot part.
Contempt may wound, and coldness chill,
But still it lingers in my heart.

And who can tell but Heaven, at last,
May answer all my thousand prayers,
And bid the future pay the past
With joy for anguish, smiles for tears?

#8 “The Funeral” by Walter De La Mare

They Dressed

They dressed us up in black,
Susan and Tom and me –
And, walking through the fields
All beautiful to see,
With branches high in the air
And daisy and buttercup,
We heard the lark in the clouds –
In black dressed up.

They took us to the graves,
Susan and Tom and me,
Where the long grasses grow
And the funeral tree:
We stood and watched; and the wind
Came softly out of the sky
And blew in Susan’s hair,
As I stood close by.

Back through the fields we came,
Tom and Susan and me,
And we sat in the nursery together,
And had our tea.
And, looking out of the window,
I heard the thrushes sing;
But Tom fell asleep in his chair,
He was so tired, poor thing.

#9 “After Witnessing A Death-Scene” by George W. Sands

A Tale

Press close your lips,
And bow your heads to earth, for Death is here!
Mark ye not how across that eye so clear,
Steals his eclipse?

A moment more,
And the quick throbbings of her heart shall cease,
Her pain-wrung spirit will obtain release,
And all be o’er!

Hush! Seal ye up
Your gushing tears, for Mercy’s hand hath shaken
Her earth-bonds off, and from her lip hath taken
Grief’s bitter cup.

Ye know the dead
Are they who rest secure from care and strife,-
That they who walk the thorny way of life,
Have tears to shed.

Ye know her pray’r,
Was for the quiet of the tomb’s deep rest,-
Love’s sepulchre lay cold within her breast,
Could peace dwell there?

A tale soon told,
Is of her life the story; she had loved,
And he who won her heart to love, had proved
Heartless and cold.

Lay her to rest,
Where shines and falls the summer’s sun and dew;
For these should shine and fall where lies so true
And fond a breast!

A full release
From every pang is given to the dead,-
So on the stone ye place above her head,
Write only “Peace.”*

When Spring comes back,
With music on her lips,-joy in her eye,-
Her sunny banner streaming through the sky,-
Flow’rs in her track-

Then come ye here,
And musing from the busy world apart,
Drop on the turf that wraps her mouldering heart,
Sweet Pity’s tear.

#10 “The Last Smile” by John Ruskin

She sat beside me yesternight,
With lip and eye so sweetly smiling,
So full of soul, of life, of light,
So beautifully care-beguiling,
That she had almost made me gay,
Had almost charmed the thought away
(Which, like the poisoned desert wind,
Came sick and heavy o’er my mind),
That memory soon mine all would be,
And she would smile no more for me.

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