I wrote you a eulogy
but it sounded more
like a speech rather than
a compass leading
towards peaceful harmony.

I cannot explain the
true nature of your death
and how much it has turned
our lives around.

Your granddaughter will never
see you grow older, and you will
never see her grow older.

She's going to wonder where
you are, the same age as I pondered,
where exactly your father was.

Only I got the courtesy of being seven
years old and remembering a rainy *******
funeral service, it got so bad that I was too short
to stand outside the cemetery and honor my
fathers father.

I cannot explain to you how difficult it
has been being the daughter that hasn't
mattered. The one without the kid, husband
or college degree.

You gloated about her endlessly
and I am so happy you talked about
her and her daughter.

However, for once I would love to know
what it is like to be the one you are proud of.

My intelligence, it stems from yours.
I'm not mad, or even sad you didn't
tell others how alike we are.
I am just going to have to understand
what you were thinking.

And accept the fact that I will never know.

As far as I can understand you have
always been proud of me, regardless
of how I lived my life.

I love you, and I'll miss you
Enjoy the afterlife
© 2016 Christina Jackson