Button, Button

Button, Button,
Who has the Button?

The last and first words I remember my Grandmother say.
She is a shadow in my memory, a mirage, at times,
her soft face just out of reach,
wishing I had been a little older
when she let go.

Somehow I incorporate her few photos
into a person of 3 dimensional qualities,
but the reality sets in
and I am 2 again.
I just do not remember her.

Fanny is her name, I did another post about her as the stage actress.
She is a woman I knew from my Mother's stories.

My mother relied on Fanny to tell her about her Father,
my Grandfather.
Fanny lost Kelly when Mom was 5.

Still all I have is the memory of a button box,
I still have a few of those buttons.
Oh, and those bright Bohemian eyes,
that soft way Mom would talk about her,
Who has the Button?

And trying to explore who Fanny was,
The Woman
living through the last great depression,
with what she had to deal with,
and all they had were buttons to play with.

Who has the Button?