Grandmas and Grandpas die,

This is fact.

The way of the world

in all her vicious glory.

This fact is largely accepted

and expected. We know the

old will perish but, even

then, they’re not easily mourned.

For mortality

to a human

is a spider’s web

to a fly.

Worse still

as not all

flies succumb

to such a fate.

We all

succumb to ours,

but, even then,

it is expected.

The unexpected

losses are what

hurt most,

I think.

I expected the cancer

in grandmother’s

smoke ridden lungs

to devour her.

To remove

the best parts

of her until there

was only suffering left.

In truth, that

is when death

can be a mercy.

A welcome repreive.

Grandpa died

slowly, drawn out.

A broken heart

his first symptom.

It was unpleasant,

for us, when he

started forgetting.

Perhaps, for him, it was a mercy.

He died not

knowing he

had outlived

his own grandson.

Which brings me to

you. The grandson.

The unexpected.

The unaccepted.

I thought we were

invincible, you see.

The young I mean,

not you and me.

I was under

the impression

nothing could

stop us.

Admittedly,

I was wrong.

We are easily

extinguished.

In truth,

I know now

that it wasn’t quite

so unexpected.

For while you

were no grandma,

you were a corpse long

before the grave.

I see the signs now.

The dullness in

chocolate

brown eyes.

Sunken cheeks of an

undernourished body.

Oortrydung ribs

of a starved soul.

Straw hair

without shine.

Looking back,

I hate that I was far less than kind.

I digress

because the truth is

you’re already gone.

Allegedly, forever at rest.

Still, it’s hard to

accept that a

world can end

at only twenty four.

Mostly, I think

I’m a hypocrite.

I didn’t love you

in life. Not really.

We bickered

and fought

but mostly we

just didn’t talk.

You asked me to

call you that week.

The week of your

death. I didn’t.

Sometimes I wonder

if that choice

smears some of

your blood on my hands.

Because even though

your death was

bloodless

it left a splatter.

Though it’s not as if this matters.

This is but a fanciful

conversation. Between

the living and the dead.