Heading back from the burial

We headed back after the burial.
“Don’t look back” the lama reminded us.
Then I felt it, the warm clutch.
An incredible urge to turn around,
The heavy weight of transcendence.
I said “Nice weather, mom”
She said yes it was and held my hand.
First time in years we walked hand in hand,
With my mom, who just buried her mother.
The clutch for her must have been great.
Grandmother had an iron fist after all.