My ninety-eight-year-old 
mother-in-law leaves behind
a hungry family and pantry
and fridge filled with food
in cans, bottles and boxes.
The day before the funeral,
we serve strawberry jam
on sour dough bread,
canned pears, raspberry, cherry
and orange Jello with fruit
cocktail, four cheese lasagna,
potato salad with flakes 
whipped with milk, diced ham.
sweet pickles and relish,
brownies and watermelon
to thirty offspring: three sons,
their children and grandchildren.
This is such a Grandma meal,
says the daughter of her daughter,
absent because of a mini stroke.
We pour into Idaho Falls
from Salt Lake City, Seattle,
Charleston, Cincinnati,
Phoenix and Pasadena
for one more family reunion
and as we toss a Frisbee
and kick a ball before posing
for family photos in the warm
July sunshine we realize
this is the last time
we will all eat her food, stay
in her house and play on her lawn.