Grandpa

September 3rd was my grandpa's birthday as well as the day he died. He was a huge part of my life and even though he died when I was only 10 or 11, I miss him and think about him all the time. This poem is for him.

Mother’s Day and you appeared behind the flowers

Fragrant and standing tall again.

I took your hands

 So large and wrinkled

A lesson in masculinity.

 

And in them I felt your hanky

An off white cloth catching me softly.

Your newspaper shook

And swallowed your top half.

We went on one last car ride

And then another

And I knew we circled the world.

I stole a sip of beer and let out your tooth-filled laugh

And the world was as good as you.

 

The hospital silenced you

Pulled you away piece by piece.

You tended roses and gave me the dead ones to bring back to life

Through pure appreciation.

 

When your petals dropped I gave them back to you.

 

It took you a year to pass.

My sister and I were brought in to say

Goodbye, it’s okay to go,

Goodbye.

You reached into your pocket to give us money

And your hands slid uselessly down the side of your gown.

Goodbye to the emaciation, the tubes, the smell

 But then in the driveway

In the rain

Wait

Wait.

 

You squeezed my hand at the end.

Even though a date was chosen (your birthday)

There was still shrieking, still disbelief.

Knowing doesn’t help.

 

My daughter has your eyes

Cool, deep grey and blue.

The eyes of roses and car rides

Of protection and infinity.

 

I brought you back.