It all happened within three
days Three quick but Impatient,
long and dreadful days
The feeling of the unknown surrounded me Patiently
waiting for a response from the numerous doctors
Who had surrounded her in her white hospital bed But there
was nothing… Nothing at all
A few days before she had been admitted, To
be stuck in a room she had never been in
before, All I could think was something was
wrong.
Our usual facetime calls had not been around and neither
were our daily messages we loved doing through text. After
the countless amounts of her not getting back to me, I had
gotten the feeling that something was not right.
I wanted to be there for my very caring, praising
grandmother, When she was going through the worst of it
all. My sister and I were the closest to her The three of us
had a relationship words couldn’t even describe. She wasn’t
just our grandmother, she was our best friend.
I will never forget the look on my dad’s face, Blank and uncertain of what
he had just heard,
After getting off of the phone with one of the kind nurses
that had cared for her, Leaving him at a loss of words.
I have never seen my dad cry, Not once in my fifteen years of constantly being by his side. After getting off that call, however, he was
in the most devastating state. The wet tears, flowing down his cheeks, uncontrollable in any way possible.
The worst of the worst had happened that night Something I wish I could have changed and never experienced at all. My grandmother
was no longer with us anymore and hearing that, Shattered me into a million little pieces, only feeling helpless and torn apart.
Her legacy still continues with me and everyone around us today.
Even though she is not with us physically or where I can give her the biggest hugs,
I am certain she is watching over my sister and me.
Smiling and proud, with her caring and warm welcoming personality, Only wanting to tell us how proud she is of the both of us.
She wasn’t just my grandmother,
Or nanny as we would say,
But she was someone who I had aspired to be like,
Not only when I am older but in my daily life today.
Right before this had all fallen down hill,
Somehow the last words had clearly gotten out.
The most important and meaningful of them all.
I could have never imagined, at that exact moment,
Right when I was beside her, holding her hand in the hospital bed, That ‘I love you’, would have been my last of ever talking to her again.
There is an icicle outside my bedroom window.
Its first facet glistens like tears,
A single droplet of perspiration trickles down its spine,
It reminds me of yesterday’s tomorrow,
The tomorrow I strive to make my best.
Its second facet has the sunlight’s reflection upon it,
It’s bright with no room for gloom,
And it catches me by surprise, blinding me,
It tells me today’s tomorrow will be just as blazing.
Its third facet has nothing,
It’s just a plane of blues and whites and creams,
But somehow, it tells me the most,
Tomorrow’s tomorrow will be the best of all.
There is an icicle outside my bedroom window.
Let them be as leaves, always changing colors and blowing around in the wind but limited to one season of life.
I’d rather be a branch, observing like a scientist experimenting and learning.
To have survived the coldest winters, to live, strong and sturdy. To be swayed by the gentle breeze across an open field or by rough gales on the tops of mountains.
I’d rather be boring, and if then ignored by everyone, than to be a colorful leaf, growing in the safety of a backyard where they are admired and then raked up by uncaring hands.
I’d rather look uninteresting and bland than bright and superficial. If I could be strong, observant and wise, I’d rather be a branch.
Let them be as tranquil, placid ponds.
Always still, calm,
quietly dignified
but never changing.
I’d rather be an ocean on a stormy day,
tumultuous and in flux, like the universe we live in.
Our world does not stop,
does not pause
to take a breath.
Why should I try to be any different?
To have been alone
with nothing else but the windy,
storm-grey sky,
rising and falling
as gusts blow back and forth.
To be respected, not as consistent or serene
or even wise but as dynamic, a thing of energy.
A blustery sea.
I’d rather be unconstrained and abrupt,
and if then puzzling
or even alienating
to those who encounter me,
then to be calm and agreeable, the placid pond
where tranquility is guaranteed,
but change and the power to act is not.