Haleigh Jun 1
4/3/18 - Started dating my boyfriend
2/5/09 - The day I lost my best friend (Grandpa)
9/16/17 - The day my dad and step mom got married
7/16/18 @ 3:35pm - The day I might lose my other best friend
Lily May 24
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There’s the old raggety rocker,
The one that always tips back too far
And my heart skips a beat as I
Secretly enjoy the thrill.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There’s the mounds of old recipes on
The counter, yellowing with age, being
Ripped from ancient editions of
House and Home magazines.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There’s the constant pleasant aroma of
Cookies, chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin
And snickerdoodle, the presence of cookie
Jars that are quickly ransacked by us.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
There is the collection of teapots on
The shelf, the daily weather forecast that
Grandpa writes out every day on the table,
The forest of palms and tiger lilies in the center.
In Grandma’s kitchen,
Time seems to stand still, and everything
Is perfect, familiar, right.
Even when the room itself doesn’t belong to
Her anymore, it will always be to me
Grandma’s kitchen.
Are they connected by a red thread of fate?

Or

Is it written on the palms of their hand?
They have fulfilled and kept their marriage vows. I pray that their soul have rested in peace and may they be reunited in Heaven.
altun Mar 30
Bars open for the night,
Walked in, turned right with all the sass,
Yᴇᴀ', grandpa's got the ᴊᴀᴢᴢ;
Man's got the style you know,
Shirt's tucked in,
With a nice accompanying grin,
Looks like a simple man,
Though has the keys to the whole universes,
Writes his own verses;
Got the math penetrated,
and my curiosity perturbated.
sʜɪᴛ! Before you know it, ʜᴇ's ᴏᴜᴛ.
Nel Mar 30
I wish you were still alive..

I wish you watched me grow up..

I wish I could call you for help now..

I wish I could hug you and bury my face in your shoulder..

Maybe if you were still alive I would’ve gotten help sooner

Maybe you could’ve stopped mom before she overdosed

Maybe you could’ve stopped me from my stupid decisions

Maybe you could’ve taught me how to fix cars and build things

Maybe granny and you would still live out by the lake

I oddly remembered the day that you died

How I woke up from the couch and tried to enter your room only to be stopped by my dad

He told me

And with all the rage I had in that six-year-old body

I threw myself at him
Hitting him
Screaming and sobbing
Claiming it can’t be true

Because I needed you

I need you now..

If you were still alive

You would’ve saw me in that royalty dress

(Instead I heard “Late Jerry Phelps” standing on the football field)

You would’ve saw us take state

(Instead it was only mom and dad)

You would’ve saw the surprised look of my face when a college contacted me

(Instead I was alone)

You would’ve watched me make a recovery from anorexia and serve depression

(Instead it was only multiple counselors)

You would’ve been so proud..

I love you...
Nel Mar 25
One

Has
Broken my family and others
By violence
And blood
By drinking
And lying

By killing two people..

How he killed a kid while drunk and denies it to this day
How he brought his wife into a war and killed her

One

Raised me
Loved me
Held me
Put me before himself
Stopped drinking
Kept my family together

It’s odd
Both are/were so different
They both have the same title from me

Grandpa
Kiara Alcazar Mar 20
I remember that day so vividly
The day that I had to say goodbye

A phone call is what woke me up
I knew what it was about
Before I even answered
The tears already started to fall

Driving carefully to the hospital
My heart in pieces
I tried to compose myself
But everything felt uncontrollable

The first person I saw was my dad
I had never seen him cry before
His eyes all red and puffy
Still he led me to the door

Everyone in the room
Tears run down their cheeks
The only sounds I could hear
sniffles, whimpers, "Why did you have to leave me?"

Holding my grandma carefully
Her sobs and cries filling the room
She wouldn't let go
I don't think she'll ever let go

It was time for them to take him
Time for us to get up and go home
I couldn't bare to watch
My poor grandmother let her lover go

We left the hospital
And approached her house
The hardest part of all
She broke down before reaching the front door

We all sat huddled by the couch
Comforting my grandma
But all I could think about
Was how I just lost my grandpa

Days and weeks have gone by
We still visit him constantly
Decorating his grave ever so sweetly
Playing his music, knowing he's singing along

Certain songs remind me of him
Movies and food too
We talked about sharing music
While he shared old war stories

I always wonder if I'll see him again
Or if he's watching us from above
Probably playing tricks on us
Perhaps sending his love

I always think about him, never will I stop
My heart will always cry for him, I love my Papa
When you left, despite me knowing you'd leave, the shock was still apparent.

The bedroom light is left on.
I take melatonin to fall asleep.
My stomach is always empty despite eating.
I fixate on your last breath.
Your chest rising.
Your chest falling.
Your quiet little sigh.
Your face tensing and then relaxing.
I make a mini shrine on my dresser out of your pictures.
I call my dad and realize that's gone too.
I dream of roads I've never traveled on.
I dream of flying to Texas and leaving here forever.
I dream of escaping.
The house is empty.
No one tells you of the shock or the trauma.
You just understand, that as soon as you can comprehend it, Death is for us all--young and old, terminally ill and seemingly perfectly healthy, parent or child, high school alumni or dropout, wife or fiance, girlfriend or best friend, young and old

I keep wilting carnations in my room.
Anything with an expiration date reminds me of the loss.
I try to remember your commanding voice and your loud laughter.
I try to love.
I try to care.
I keep your pictures to remember your face before...you changed.

Now all I try to forget are the changes.
I try to forget you saying you weren't hungry.
Your food scraping off the plate into the garbage.
You saying you weren't hungry.
You sleeping in until 10am.
How you used to get up at 6am sharp every morning.
You saying you weren't hungry.
You not talking anymore.
You...emaciated and frail.
You...changing.
Your pain.
The sound of the concentrator humming.
The mechanical noises of the defibrillator and its exhausted sigh.
You saying you weren't hungry anymore.
Your last breath.
Your quiet little sigh.
Your serene smile.
Everything was so tired, grandpa.
Everything was so tired...
Grief.
How you process a loss.
Rest in peace, grandpa.
Sienna Mar 4
In the green light,

crashing down

In the green light,


   can't make a sound

In the green light,
  

    walking all around

In the green light,


pity a pound

In the green light,
          

     want to leave town

In the green light,




                            haunted by the shroud.
A poem about the green light that glares in my grandmother's kitchen at night when all lights are shut off. The bulb is green and all is silent. Here in this kitchen; this house, so much has happened. I've seen things I wish I never did. There in the green light. A window at the entrance is where I used to look through all the time and think about running away. For the last part of the poem, I am referencing my grandfather who passed away in this house. His bed is near the kitchen and his presence is still eerily felt.
Mike Hentges Feb 23
As my brother and I drove away from my grandmother’s funeral he asked me if maybe grandpa called her “Anne” instead of “grandma” was because he didn’t remember who we were.

I think I’ve cried more about Hannah than I did at my grandma’s funeral. Which is kinda fucked up cause Hannah isn’t dead she just doesn’t want to date me anymore.

So I feel like kind of an asshole.
I’m kind of an asshole.

Hannah’s not her real name.

I have this blanket. On my bed. My grandma crocheted it for me – to give to me on my wedding day.

I’m not married.  
You could probably guess that.

And my grandma is dead now.
You could probably guess that too.

The blanket sleeps on my bed.
My bed sleeps in my memories of
where Hannah used to lay.
Soft slumber and figures puzzling together in the warm darkness – thick with breath
The blanket following the soft curves of her body and now I’m thinking of my naked ex and dead grandma in the same sentence and we should change the subject.

My grandparents slept in separate beds and I always thought that was weird.
Grandma was like peanut butter on homemade bread
The fancy peanut butter. Not that Jiffy crap.

It was the bread that made the difference.
give a loaf of it to each family for Christmas
My cousin got the recipe but she doesn’t make it right.

We made ramen once. Hannah and I, not me and my grandma. We didn’t use a recipe and the eggs made her sick.

I had a cold when I hugged my grandma and I fear it made her sick.

She died two days later.

Grandma once said you’re never too old to hug your grandparents.
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