To A Grandfather I Never Knew

A half eaten packet of chips
Lies open underneath the old ceiling fan
A telephone ring at 3.30 am wakes us up
A few muffled voices and a quick hug to confirm the news.

A news broadcast and newspaper headlines
To replace the heartbreaks. A large obituary
And a necessary yet expensive funeral service
To distract the family from the extent of the loss.

Loud laughters and a small epidemic of flu
Saltless meals and joyful talks to replace the funeral blues

Yet, a sense of emptiness like a cancer grows
That empty wheelchair, those clothes, and that bed
Souvenirs of the person that was
Reminding of those tears unshed

Photographs and medals swelling up their pride
The hope of his being on the better side
The bedroom he was confined to for those last years
Where we had spent Summer nights during our childhood

Coming back to the city we call home
As cousins and siblings seperate
Big holes in our hearts-for him and the others
As we try to move on with our lives

No movies, no laughter, no trips that were long awaited
As memory of him fades, yet the guilt
Of not loving him when he was alive
Dwelling deeper inside our souls
And the impossibility of knowing him better fixates within

A stranger with an obligation of blood
Paroxysm of confusion, after death
Now his body ashes and bones
Yet pieces of his soul lives on.


About TheBlackWallflower

Tweet me, don't @ me: @WallflowerBlack View all posts by TheBlackWallflower

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