dear, grandpa
I'm sorry
I'm so sorry for being a ghost
while you were still here.
because its so hard
to watch the person
who taught you how to tie your shoes
slowly unknot from his own life
"gone"
that's a weird word, isn't it
it sounds like a door clicking shut
but it feels like a house collapsing
I can't believe the hands that held mine
are just a memory I have to fight to keep warm
your skin had turned to stone
and I am left clutching at the air you used to breathe
it cuts me deep to know I will have to save you a seat at my graduation
I'll set the seat, straighten my gown.
but the seat will stay empty and cold
I'll look in the crowd and hope I see that beaming smile you had.
praying for a ghost that doesn't show up.
knowing that the only place you'll be sitting
is in the quiet ache that sits in my chest
and when I want a hug after accepting that diploma
all I will have is a jar full of you.
telling me that you really are
dead.
they tell me your resting now
they say your a ship that finally found the shore
but I'd rather you were still out at storm with me
I refuse to trade your voice for " peace"
I refuse to accept a world where you are past tense
I'm not ready to let go of the pain
if it means letting go of the person..
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 9:37 PM UTC
dear, grandpa
I'm sorry
I'm so sorry for being a ghost
while you were still here.
because its so hard
to watch the person
who taught you how to tie your shoes
slowly unknot from his own life
"gone"
that's a weird word, isn't it
it sounds like a door clicking shut
but it feels like a house collapsing
I can't believe the hands that held mine
are just a memory I have to fight to keep warm
your skin had turned to stone
and I am left clutching at the air you used to breathe
it cuts me deep to know I will have to save you a seat at my graduation
I'll set the seat, straighten my gown.
but the seat will stay empty and cold
I'll look in the crowd and hope I see that beaming smile you had.
praying for a ghost that doesn't show up.
knowing that the only place you'll be sitting
is in the quiet ache that sits in my chest
and when I want a hug after accepting that diploma
all I will have is a jar full of you.
telling me that you really are
dead.
they tell me your resting now
they say your a ship that finally found the shore
but I'd rather you were still out at storm with me
I refuse to trade your voice for " peace"
I refuse to accept a world where you are past tense
I'm not ready to let go of the pain
if it means letting go of the person..
