In my September 13th post, I mentioned a poem that I had written about my grandmother's passing and how I experienced it:
"I had to stop replaying those moments. I think it is damaging to replay those moments in your mind so many times. Remembering the good things is wonderful, but to keep feeling your heart sink just like it did when those words first hit your ears? I'm tired of putting my brain through that. Matter of fact I have a poem about this that I wrote after my grandmother passed away. I'll find that and post it this week for you."
As promised, here is that 2004 poem, dug out of the archives just for you:
Why do I keep reliving
that morning in my mind?
The ambulance, the waiting room,
saying goodbye to a body, not you.
Feeling a loved one repel my touch,
then embracing another
that I’ve missed so much.
A contrast of death
and life newly born,
vacant faces of nurses,
your clothes trashed and torn.
One moment a baby,
the next I am grown.
Why is this what’s on tonight,
instead of how we spent your life?
A movie of pain,
I rewind and press play.
photo credit: boliston via flickr