One morning, I went downstairs,
expecting everything to be fine.
The look on my parent's and grandmother's faces told me things were not in line.
My Father told me he was sorry,
that last night Grandpa died.
I knew he wasn't going to be around for much longer,
but these feelings I had denied.
I tried to get a grip, as I walked into the room.
This room was no longer happy,
but filled with sadness and doom.
He still was laying there in bed,
just like the previous night.
I couldn't believe he was really gone,
my lip I had to bite.
They told me I could go and kiss him,
or that I could hold his hand.
But I was scared to touch him,
I'm not sure they could understand.
I just stared at him for a moment,
and then went back upstairs.
I didn't even get to say goodbye,
did God really care?
My time at the funeral home was depressing,
several hours went by.
When looking at him, I thought I saw him breathe,
but I knew this was a lie.
For how can one possibly take a breath,
when one is already shrouded in death?
When it was finally time to leave,
my mom said, give him a kiss.
I didn't say anything, because
if I did, I knew that she'd insist.
I kissed him lightly on the head,
but pulled back very fast.
Now I look back and I don't think I should have,
for that kiss would be his last.
But I wasn't prepared for how it would feel,
he wasn't warm, but icy cold.
I hated the way my kiss to him felt,
it was horrible and the feeling bold.
But that was not the worst,
no, that was yet to come.
At the end of the funeral the next day,
that's when I got numb.
I'd never seen my dad cry before.
Not in all my twelve short years.
I could no longer bare to hold back,
I sobbed silver sorrow tears.
My mom hugged me, but it was no use,
I just wanted to be alone.
The sadness I felt when they carried out the casket,
forever will be unknown.
In the cemetery they set him down,
the priest blessed him one last time.
I looked at the sky, then down at the ground,
I said,
Grandpa, please give me a sign.
That very night as I lay down to sleep,
my grandfather, he gave me a dream.
This dream wasn't what I was expecting, it definitely was supreme.
I dreamt my grandfather was alive again,
I asked him what heaven was like.
But just then I awoke, I didn't get the answer,
I knew it was all his psyche.
He didn't want to tell me, he wanted to save it for when it was my turn.
I figured he thought I was just to young,
and right now it wasn't my concern.
I was grateful for the dream that he gave me.
It let me know he was alright.
I know one day I'll see him again,
and I'll welcome it with so much delight.
This poem is dedicated to my grandfather, who died a couple years back. It was so heartbreaking for me to see all this, and it was actually scary. Mostly because I had never experienced death like this before. It had never hit anyone I was really close with. I love him so much......I'll never forget you Grandpa.
