This is a poem by my Dad's mother, my Grandma Eichman, that Marshall read as part of the memorial service.
When Grandma Larson's sitting And rocking all alone, So lonely and about done in From grief and toil she's known, And I drop in to "set awhile" She pushes me a chair Then I am positive that I See Angels smiling there. When I am baking doughnuts With the neighbor kiddies here, Among the little children Those doughnuts disappear. But when I pass the plate around To Jeannie, Don, and Lyle, Above that almost empty plate, I see an Angel smile. When going down the garden path, Between the corn and beans I find my row of Marigolds All gay within the greens, And as I stoop to touch their gold, Or pick a bud meanwhile; There, so near to Mother Earth I see an Angel smile. From Grandma Larson's, little folks' Or Mother Earth's deep heart, There is a kinship, we will find, To God, our counterpart, And, by this kinship, day by day, We'll progress, mile by mile, Until we really reach the place Where only Angels smile.