The Cries Cancer Won't Ever Be Able To Hear

I usually keep my life hidden,
choosing for the most wayward of
my thoughts to inflict pain inside,
instead of showing others
I do drown.

But on that night, she remembered.
I gave birth to the words and
had courage, thrusting pieces
out I knew would mean
the most to me, in the end.

The last thing I told him
was I love you.
And the last thing I heard from him:

I love you too.

No questions, no hesitations,
it's okay he didn't smile while
we stayed.
He looked at me and I was at
his side, my whole family knowing
these were his dying days.

Silent, but screaming inwardly?
- I know I'm dying, I'm dying more so
than the day before -
it was in his eyes, the life of the spirit.

And on that night, when I learned
he passed away, my mouth was
tranquillized, my heart couldn't feel..
touch.

I was still shocked,
though my mind memorized deterioration,
reality failed to press into my skull
the razored facts -
it would happen someday, and someday soon.

For months he had been away from home,
in therapy, and those days after school
visiting him.

A presence I still cannot believe has just
disappeared in an instance. Gone,
I cannot speak anymore nor can he watch
as I grow into womanhood, and find love.

But, is this okay to say, that I don't doubt
God didn't take him to heaven?
I never did, I never will.

We were never bound by blood,
but you will always be my Grandpa.

* written December 10, 2012