What's Left

i worte this when i was 16 the day my grandmother passed

What’s left?
Just some faded memories and old pictures,
What’s left?
That is what people ask when someone they love is lost.
I will tell you this
Those memories only fade if you let them.
The pictures never grow old.
The memory of the pain may fade but the memory of the person is always there.
I ask but one thing
When you remember my grandmother, please
Remember her young with dark black hair and red lips.
Not as the old a frail woman she became,
In my memory’s she will never grow old,
She was the wisest person I ever met,
So that is what is left
Of the bravest woman I have ever met
And had the honor of knowing
What’s left?