Tuesday, March 1

RIP Gpa

March 2, 2007
That day, the sun was shining boastfully
breaking free of its shy shell of
winter months. Patches of


ochre grass unveiled, preparing for
early March to renew its once enchanting
emerald blades which in turn


soften grounds for painted tulips, buttercups
and waves of wild flowers to roam. Indoors we
sit dutifully clicking and typing,


drawing, sketching and sewing. Phones
ringing, cheerful small talk, banter, laughter.
I, bemused, by this rare


day of beauty so strikingly opposite
of icy long-drawn days, finding it difficult
to concentrate on mundane monotonous 


office-like tasks. Fields of linen white
daisies, ripe pine trees, lilacs, sun-kissed days,
wind tousled waves of local lakes all seem to consume


my already consumed mind. Little did I know
all dreams aside, my grandfather
was dying that day.


One simple call, was not so simple. My
favorite character of a human being
no longer with warm hands or rosy cheeks,


no longer smiling his sheepish grin, or
able to corner me in the battle ring with
his sarcastic repartee defeats.


Walking through sunshine painted corridors of
a hospice mocking happiness in every
way. Paints are peeling, crowded rooms divided by


vomit stained curtains. Ugly stench of stale perfumes,
wilted flowers atop cell-like window sills, Grandfather
I am sorry we ever put you in such a place.


Nurses do not smile at my tear stained


face. Please do not carry on as though my Grandfather’s
life wasn’t just minutes ago wished away. Yet


I somehow manage to stumble on through
past uncles, aunts, mom and dad,
a near resemblance of a drunken bum. And there


you lay. A pile of bones so delicately arranged. With
a blanket draped of paper thin skin. Your room was dark as
our tears for you, formed puddles on the floor. Wasn’t


it just yesterday, Grandfather, that your belly proudly
exceeded your belt, that you sat in our kitchen
drinking your tea and eating moms snickerdoodles? Just yesterday


you light heartedly poked fun at me and patted my head
ever so gently ensuring me of your unquestionable love. Weren’t you
just laughing with your younger brother at our family picnic? And


playing with your grandchildren healthy in mind, body
and spirit? Grandfather, I questioned why that day started
so beautifully with blue skies, gossiping birds and hints of spring,


but ended so ugly with your fading breath. I assure myself
that nature and God gave you such a beautiful day
to put your aching body so peacefully to rest.

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