I remember how you’ve always told me the story of the day I was born
And how the doctors had tried to turn me the day before.
You constantly recount my very first airplane ride
Always describing 10-month-old me screaming and crying.
I can never forget that day in September of my first grade year
When you told me that Grandpa Paul was with God.
How I instantly collapsed into your lap and sobbed with all my heart
I remember you not being home for Christmas that year.
You spent that Christmas at your father’s funeral,
Which I think was on Christmas Day.
For the remainder of my first grade year I never went out for recess.
Instead, hidden inside the walls of the guidance office, I would curse God for taking my precious grandfather away.
I have many more memories to remember
And I don’t want to forget them forever.