grandfather
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Almost fifty-three years ago, I became your grandson.You died 30 years ago today at the age of seventy-one.You became sick when a doctor prescribed you some Dilantin.
Papaw was born in 1910 on the first of May.He died a quarter of a century ago today.After living a long life, he died at the age on 87.Almost ten years ago, Mom joined him in Heaven.
When I wish I could hear you,
Through that rough and tired old voice,
And when I wish that you could still tell me stories,
About the Baseball that you threw with your brother,
Nine days back turned I 28
Today you went away
Though rarely you made your presence
Which felt so strange and out of place
And it's Corona and no friends to pay
the last to you of farewells
The truth of my is the truth of me.
For without him there would be no me.
His genetics, values, and laughter flow through me blessing my children and grandchildren to be.
I have been a son and I am a father.
The Traveling Suitcase
The wooden boat encircled with echoes of thunderous silence
Reminiscing the rowdy sailors once on board
My mother didn’t cry anymore; she hadn’t since the first night I saw them in the rocking chair.
“Benjamin,” she told me, “That’s his name.”
“How wonderful,” I thought.
I read a book about a girl named Zazoo
But maybe that girl was me.
She made poems as she rowed a boat in a canal
And watched for her sad gray cat
And thought about the war and how terrible the world is
You're slipping away
Your mind it is almost gone
Eyes clouded by confusion
Then you sing a song
your eyes brighten once more
The moments seem to be passing by your minds door
Once strong and leaned on,
My grandfather, in his simple way, informed me that he has dementia. Twice, today, he informed me that he has dementia and he is lucky. He forgot. And he forgets that he forgot.
Nana Abu, I miss you
My loving grandfather
Such a great honor,
for you to be my everything,
in the times I felt like puking.
You taugh me everything I know,
I hurt because of youThe pain I felt when you hurt meThe anger that followed what you didI could never understand why you did these things to meI was 12, Just beginning lifeAnd you took it from meHow is this fair to me??I hurt everyday because you
I remember the smell of nicotine and tobacco,
of yellowed tar-filled teeth, that
always wafted from your face,
whenever you came to visit me
Grandfather, I love you
Even though you left me.
You served in World War two,
Oh Grandfather, your spirit will never desert me.
Dear Pa,
Never wrote a letter ever.
I’m told e-mail’s just not the same.
OK, here goes.
You died twenty years ago today.On February 7, 1998, you passed away.You were born in 1910 and died at the age of eighty-seven.Twenty years ago, you left this Earth and went to Heaven.
Dear Grandfather,
I don’t even know what to say to you.
You’ve made a writer speechless. Congratulations.
Lolo...
Here's a letter to you.
To the man who spoke so soft and yet so proud of his past.
To the man who worked so hard yet also not so fast.
To the man who understood when to stop and when to go,
Goodbye Tatay*
Dear Tatay,
I still find myself talking about you in present tense.
It’s been twelve years since I flew from Manila,
I wish when I picked up the bags I was aware of the permanence.
10/6/16
My Dearest Grandson,
I know that writing letters may be relics of the past,
and sending emails online are more convenient and fast,
but I couldn't help but write one since I have your new address,
Dear Stranger,
It has been a little over a year now since I first met you,
Since your own daughter first met you,
and the rest of your grandchildren too.
We don't blame you
you hadn't a clue
Dear Grandfather I Never Met,
I look up at the photo of you and my mother
that dangles on an aging white painted wall
roughly six feet from a worn sandy brown carpet
in the hallway of my home.
Here stands a boy who doesn't know who he'll become
He stands a boy playing underneath the sun,
Underneath the sun that shines warmth down on him
I see him forget me
And all his loved ones
I see him forget
Yesterday, last week, last year
I feel the pain
When he can't remember my name
To know that
His memories are disappearing
I was too young to remember.
Regardless my imagination is large,
My love for him is larger,
And the numerous stories continue grow vivid.
He was young,
I was always standing by his side,
Sad depressed people all around
Some are happy others are down
My grandpa always sad
It just made me feel all around bad
He locked the room all the time
The craftsmanship of hands at his decree
Tells a story of what was and what will soon be
A keeper is what you may call him
The precious memories of the past
Bears the utmost
Rita June,
staring silent at Indiana snow,
robed up in a worn, old, pink throw
lights her cigarette by the kitchen window.
She squints and she licks her thin, blotted lips,
When I was ten, my grandfather drove all the way from Texas to Colorado just to help my mother and I move after my step-dad left us.
When I was eleven, my grandfather helped pay for me to go to camp with the rest of my classmates.
I remember when you would dry my tears with your rough hand
I remember when you would hug the breath out of me
It seems in the blink of an eye you disappeared, so now where do I stand
On the drive home, I noticed all the children racing around playgrounds,
people walking their dogs,
everyone being able to go about their lives while mine had been completely put on pause.
His picture sits among my books
some of which for me he bought.
Down from the shelf he smiles, looks
with his eyes still full of thought.
The sudden loss of a man of steel
a grandpa so strong, so kind
I have grown to hate my grandfather.
I have grown to hate my grandfather.
I have grown to hate his smile.
I have grown to hate his smile that used to greet me with such kindness and authority.
The croaking of the stairs
Woke me up,
Told me you were awake.
I bounced in your lap,
All giggles and smiles
As you flipped through
Black and white pages.
We bet on the horses,
The feeling of jubilation resonated over me
My heart was content and satisfied with glee
Until one day I realized that my world had ended and he had passed away
My grandfather
My best friend
That smile is always on my mind.
Pure Happiness, forever on that face.
Always by my side,
Telling me right from wrong.
I start to walk and see tears in people's eyes
I can not breathe and start to cry.
Every breath, the air gets thinner
And ever step just gets bigger.
Are they tears of joy, or tears of sorrow?
Papa, do you see me?
Scared little girl in the corner
I know you told me to smile
Not to cry or mourn or
Wish I could’ve done something
Made your pain go away
Found a cure faster
Ask my grandmother what it is like to live
with her husband, my Papa,
and she'll point her doe eyes straight
into your soul with a gaze full of fear.
Fear of the constant storm that hangs
There's a lot of pressure in this world.
This crazy-ass, city-and-sas world.
But hell, it ain't real.
Gotta listen to a real man every once in a while...
He's a hard workin', head turnin',
It slowly crawls behind a person
Like a shadow in the early stages of life
The few who leave early
do not get consumed by something so divine
A hero in his prime
But he was built to high this time
That should have been the sign
That he would fall
A wife and kids he had
All they needed was a dad
But left alone and sad
An applicative memory
draped limply on a coat hanger
Wrap it around my shoulders and move on
I forget it’s there until I remember
When no other words are processing
I remember.
It'll just be a Tuesday.A Tuesday, normal to most.Just another day on the calendar. It'll be just another day of the week.
"Well, there's Miss Beautiful," as I approach the porch step
Another cherished day - for a horrid illness crept
Bold brown eyes, with a happy, gentle smile
Every last second was ultimately worth while
Cold and Discolored.
Nothing I’m used to seeing.
The once vibrant life is slowly
Fading into the Undiscovered Country.
Dirt that hides itself underneath fingernails.Dry, cracked skin tells a hero's story.Years of hard work leave a calloused palmFirmly hangs on to pride and glory.
I thought I saw a smile,
Though I know it can’t be true
Seeing you try so hard,
Part of me died with you
You lived for family, God, and country
The Red, White, and Blue
His porcelain skin
& wiry brown hair,
His rosy cheeks
& baby blue eyes,
The cotton jacket
With matching leather shoes
& stiff cap.
Always at attention, like a soldier
It is fitting that my grandfather should die tonight,
How convenient that this is the very moment I have nightmared about
Ebbing in finality was the thumb of my grandfather:
His eyes wavered, though I don't know what he sought after.
Many years ago I asked what he could see:
"I can see nothing in all of it's incredibility,"
Grandpa,
Is that you?
No, the wind is just angry.
Grandpa, yesterday I thought about you.
I remember the walk we took one night.
Poppie I can't belive that you are gone, You left us here so all alone, I know that you are gone to a better place, But I still can't get over the last time I saw your face, You were smiling and laughing and full of joy, I remember you saying "her
On golden wingsThe angels soarwatching usforevermoreFrom their viewpointIn the airA better placeThan what was there
The big picture window
Sits covered with plants and cards
All his clothes and possessions
Are neatly placed in the closet
Boxes of questions
Sit in the corner
By a dresser of answers
When we got the call that he ended it all
My heavy tears flowed down my cheeks.
My pen and paper took the pain as my hands shook.
A Rose Amongst Antlers
Born to a loving family in late May,
The baby blossomed in laughter and play
You’d notice he was edgy in spirit, but kind in heart
The small ruddy church slouches in the town square.
I am seven trapped within the musky, confining walls;
my legs swing haplessly, as I sit upon the gaudy distorted pew.
They smile and they giggle
And the back is filled with bumps.
His hands on the the wheels and each
turn is smooth as silk.
It weaves a brilliant spiderweb
Through the mornings, after
school.
I dreamt.
with the man who had been to Vietnam
speaking at school
over the book he wrote about
war
I knew you
in your light gray ARMY shirt
pulled over the potbelly,
would be coming to visit
His skin looks old, brown, and wrinkled; scarred by the Mexican Sun;
His wrinkles are a chronicle of his life-long Wisdom.
His hands are rough to the touch; toughened by years of toil on the Fields;
I know one day you'll have to go
and that's the day that I will know,
that you'll be under heaven's apple tree
looking down and watching over me.
I'll miss you and you'll miss me,
so I'll dream of our apple tree
Grandpa’
Curled up around your wrinkled flesh I was
when you were nearly in a comatose.
I’m not certain if you ever listened,
but our whimsical memories; I tried to recall.
