dear grandfather,

you left the television on
you left your flannel where you always put it
a bottle of your favorite soda still in the fridge
you also left your records here
but when i played them this time
the sound didn't hit me right
the crackling wasn't how i remembered it
as soon as the needle hit
the room grew colder
and a lot bigger

dear grandfather,

grandma doesn't sound the same anymore
she can only fake a smile
her humming has morphed into a sigh
the house is too quiet
i tried to play another record but
grandma said that some things should be left where they lay
i don't know what she's going to do with them
or your couch
or your flannel
or your soda
or the looming shadows in the corner of the family room where we used to gather

dear grandfather,

i'm quickly starting to settle into the fact that you're gone
forever

dear grandfather,

your records are still there
i haven't been able to gather the strength to play them
or even entertain the fact that they'll sound the same

dear grandpa,

this couch is too big
your flannel is growing thin
the soda is flat
the house is still cold

dear grandpa,

today i played some Elvis
and i swear that the crackling of the record synchronized with the cracking of my heart
and every bittersweet harmony coaxed the tears from my eyes

dear papa,
i swear i heard you humming along