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#grandparent
If you knew me from a bird's eye view Would you dismiss me for the tiny islands you dislike In the ocean of who I am?
0
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 5:18 PM UTC
Was that meant to be a hug?
She collected lolly sticks,         The ones with jokes on them:         Why did the chicken cross the road?-type stuff, Which she stained brown and used as floorboards in her magnum opus. The Tudor house was the best one. It had servants’ quarters And a kitchen with little hessian potato sacks made of something or other she salvaged from somewhere or other; And the floorboards looked so real:         painted lolly sticks         but almost evoking the smell of varnish,         layers of polish on a floor trodden by centuries         in perfect miniature;                                                 Almost. This was the last of the three                                                 or four                                                         dolls’ houses she built; The devil’s work for her idle widow’s hands. She built this one while you were entering your final         stalemate that doomed dance that sits so permanently on your conscience like a sack of compost full of water.         (I choose this simile only because         I found this in my garden yesterday,         and it was ******* heavy.) On paper it was simple:         You gave her your house,         She gave you hers. And so her house shrunk around her and became a dolls’ house of your own making, Irrationally                         she saw your god-hands reaching in to manipulate and extort her. She was wrong, of course. You were making good on your promise. You would come through for her in her frailty. You did – but it was a promise you made more to yourself than her, And she let her illogical mind         never analytical to begin with         now razed and blinded by grief and loneliness                         (there was nothing to work with) poison your good deed, you were both dolls now. Eight years later she died lovelessly. She retreated into her sitting room         the only part of the house that stayed the same         after you moved in –                 the walls closed in to contain it                 constrict it a hospital bed and vinyl chair with commode, and the brown laminate floor         just like         her lolly sticks. You administered painkillers Admitted the nurses Negotiated with your estranged brother. but her paranoia rotted everything and your hands cared with compassion but not love. Gone, now, the dolls’ houses remain. An inheritance of clutter in a house you bought. You answer the phone                                         breathlessly                                         aggressively. You have been heaving the big one up the stairs         that sack of compost         that heavy conscience of yours. You will be heaving those ******* dolls’ houses around until I have to buy your house and care for you. But I am telling you now:         I am putting them in a skip         the moment I have the chance. They are not imbued with the joy they gave her any more than                         by keeping them safe from landfill                         you can imbue them with the love you withheld. They are painted lolly sticks and sewn hessian. They don’t contain any more of her than the bits of paper she kept         passwords and bank balances         dates and instructions for the Sky box There is nothing left of her to protect now. Open up the hinged false front,                 tip out the miniatures                 let the little figures be free,                                 be landfill                                 (isn’t that what dying is anyway?) all the tangible things she touched and loved are not avatars for her touch and her love. The past is not present through the preservation of objects. The past is not erased by the advancement of time                 nor can it be undone by corrective action. Now she is on the other side of the road,         (why did the chicken–         behave.) She has no further use for the things she left behind.
0
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 4:15 AM UTC
To get to the other side
She collected lolly sticks,         The ones with jokes on them:         Why did the chicken cross the road?-type stuff, Which she stained brown and used as floorboards in her magnum opus. The Tudor house was the best one. It had servants’ quarters And a kitchen with little hessian potato sacks made of something or other she salvaged from somewhere or other; And the floorboards looked so real:         painted lolly sticks         but almost evoking the smell of varnish,         layers of polish on a floor trodden by centuries         in perfect miniature;                                                 Almost. This was the last of the three                                                 or four                                                         dolls’ houses she built; The devil’s work for her idle widow’s hands. She built this one while you were entering your final         stalemate that doomed dance that sits so permanently on your conscience like a sack of compost full of water.         (I choose this simile only because         I found this in my garden yesterday,         and it was ******* heavy.) On paper it was simple:         You gave her your house,         She gave you hers. And so her house shrunk around her and became a dolls’ house of your own making, Irrationally                         she saw your god-hands reaching in to manipulate and extort her. She was wrong, of course. You were making good on your promise. You would come through for her in her frailty. You did – but it was a promise you made more to yourself than her, And she let her illogical mind         never analytical to begin with         now razed and blinded by grief and loneliness                         (there was nothing to work with) poison your good deed, you were both dolls now. Eight years later she died lovelessly. She retreated into her sitting room         the only part of the house that stayed the same         after you moved in –                 the walls closed in to contain it                 constrict it a hospital bed and vinyl chair with commode, and the brown laminate floor         just like         her lolly sticks. You administered painkillers Admitted the nurses Negotiated with your estranged brother. but her paranoia rotted everything and your hands cared with compassion but not love. Gone, now, the dolls’ houses remain. An inheritance of clutter in a house you bought. You answer the phone                                         breathlessly                                         aggressively. You have been heaving the big one up the stairs         that sack of compost         that heavy conscience of yours. You will be heaving those ******* dolls’ houses around until I have to buy your house and care for you. But I am telling you now:         I am putting them in a skip         the moment I have the chance. They are not imbued with the joy they gave her any more than                         by keeping them safe from landfill                         you can imbue them with the love you withheld. They are painted lolly sticks and sewn hessian. They don’t contain any more of her than the bits of paper she kept         passwords and bank balances         dates and instructions for the Sky box There is nothing left of her to protect now. Open up the hinged false front,                 tip out the miniatures                 let the little figures be free,                                 be landfill                                 (isn’t that what dying is anyway?) all the tangible things she touched and loved are not avatars for her touch and her love. The past is not present through the preservation of objects. The past is not erased by the advancement of time                 nor can it be undone by corrective action. Now she is on the other side of the road,         (why did the chicken–         behave.) She has no further use for the things she left behind.
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103
He was my papaw and he was my father's dad. When he died in 1994, it was both tragic and sad. If Papaw had survived, he would be celebrating his birthday. If he hadn't died, he would've become 100 years old today. He was born on July the 28th of 1923. Today he would've lived for a century. When Papaw took some medication, he became very sick. He died six days after his birthday because he was allergic. Dad was hurt by Papaw's death and so was I. It's always painful to learn that a grandparent is going to die.
0
Jul 28, 2023
Jul 28, 2023 at 11:32 AM UTC
Papaw's 100th Birthday
it was your birthday yesterday mom reminded me like it hadn’t been the only thing on my mind all day she said she couldn’t believe that it’s been so long but it felt like i had just hugged you yesterday i didn’t want to believe it i don’t believe it and i’m not sure that i ever will so i set up a number that leads to no where because i wondered what it would be like to call you to leave you a message to tell you how my day was and i think of you whenever i see a flannel shirt when i eat peaches when i smell fresh flowers and sometimes when i want to feel close to you i’ll go into my spare room, open the closet and put on your army green police jacket that you left it even still smells like you i was too young then i was too young to be sorting through an entire house of things so the entire family could decide what i would be able to remember you by but even now i don’t need your things i remember you as clear as the blue skies you loved it would just be nice to have more of you around but i know you’re there i look up at the photos of you in the living room every single day and smile you’re gone but i know you’re here twelve years gone but i can still feel you all around
0
May 24, 2023
May 24, 2023 at 3:17 PM UTC
12 Years Gone.
I went to your favorite restaurant today I’m not sure why I ordered your favorite food And suddenly I started to cry. - I miss you.
0
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 10:32 PM UTC
Grief
I watch, the ocean of emotion welling up through limpid eyes in fearful, tearful panic clutching at the straws that are granddad that true constant love unspoken.
0
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 3:57 AM UTC
where safety lies
Generational gaps of knowledge and experience Bringing to you some kind of appearance Like the technology at our fingertips Or the way an old clock ticks Differences in us by decades of age Though, similar in so many ways Like the way we love Or want be loved Like the need to dance Or taking a chance Generational differences But human nonetheless
0
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 9:49 PM UTC
Generational
Generational gaps of knowledge and experience Bringing to you some kind of appearance Like the technology at our fingertips Or the way an old clock ticks Differences in us by decades of age Though, similar in so many ways Like the way we love Or want be loved Like the need to dance Or taking a chance Generational differences But human nonetheless
0
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 11:19 PM UTC
Generational
I always felt the warmth of your embrace When I ate melting Mac and cheese. The bright yellow cheese gleamed like your eyes I saw your smile in smirking elbow noodles, curled upwards. Ham and bread crumbs sprinkled the top, Creating the perfect symphony of savory on my taste buds. The blueberry muffins always tasted so sweet... I miss your sweetness. The call of your voice echoes now As a distant shout for dinner to be served. It’s been years since you’ve passed, But I still hear your words call down the hall floating over Jeopardy playing on the television. I can’t hear your voice anymore saying you love me, But I can always hear it haunt me when I eat Mac & Cheese. It’s the only time I can hear voice... I miss your voice. The smell of Mac & Cheese makes me sick now. Flavor doesn’t dance on my taste buds anymore. The cheese tastes cold. The blueberries taste bitter. The savory ham now tastes sorrowful. And the bread crumbs feel like sand scraping my mouth. No one else makes it like you did, Even if the recipe is the same. But I still eat it. Because I feel you with me when I do. It’s the only time I do... I will always miss the warmth of your melting Mac & Cheese, And the warmth of your embrace.
0
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 7:17 AM UTC
Missing Mac & Cheese
her grandmother stood at the window in the kitchen the corners of her mouth turned up into an unconscious slight smile at the sight of a spinning yellow blur under the big oak in the middle of the pasture surrounded by green grasses wonderous hues of wildflowers she quietly called out to grandad come see this the lanky cowboy sauntered in from the breezeway with his umpteenth cup of coffee peered at the blur of yellow opened the side door stepped out on the deck beside the metal glider and called out in his smooth baritone voice sheeeeeelllllliiii... sheeeeeelllllliiii lllllloooooooooo... she might have been 4 or perhaps five precious in the way innocent girls that age are dressed in smocked yellow lawn white lace patent leather up to her shins in spring grasses slowing her spin she turned toward her name her face radiant she took a wobbly step or two then broke into an off kilter run arms stretched out before her he took a few long strides bent his tall body low offering a bent knee wide open arms she flew into them with all her might knowing she would be caught rough housed with and given a wickereye from the window her grandmother took it all in sighed said to herself hold this dear hold this snapshot of the soul for. ever.
0
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
granddad’s arms
The first time I saw you ***** out the lights You took the blood from a kitten with ten thousand bites I was young and did not understand I could take it, no need to hold a hand Sadly, little did I know That day I only saw your shadow The second time I saw you, I was about ten I could not prepare myself for you, not  then Walking in your house, or rather your gateway Quiet rooms filled with bodies painted gray There you stood just around the corner Keeping to yourself like an exotic foreigner But when you took Libby from me That is when I started to see You were in the room with us In fact, you were the one causing all the fuss No one was fighting, Libby was old Still, how could you take a woman so strong, so bold? Here is where you crossed the line When you took Her, you filthy swine She had her flaws that's true But not enough to stay with you She was my savior, my salvation There's not much left of someone after cremation When my time comes to meet you in the ring Fist to face I'll make it sting If I could do one thing for all mankind Killing You comes to mind
0
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Face to Face with Him
You came into my life aged 4 Such a sweet wee thing and to this heart of mine much pleasure you did bring I had laughter and love with my little boy But girls bring a different joy You really were a lovely girl You put my life into a whirl We did crafts dress ups had days filled with fun Your hair shone golden when out in the sun Now you're an adult Into a lovely young lady you've grown with a husband and a baby girl A family of your own So now I have a grandaughter to give me years of pleasure and I'm sure just like her mum she'll give me memories I'll forever treasure
0
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
Beautiful Girl
When she walks into your kitchen crying, put down your half scrubbed *** turn off the faucet, wipe the water off of your hands with a white dish towel. Like her eyes are trying to dry themselves on her pale cheeks. You wrap your arms around her and let her cry into your hair. You feel like a mother comforting a child who has just lost their favorite stuffed toy. Her grandfather just passed away, and this is the first time she has left her house since that night. The night she couldn't drive fast enough to say goodbye. You don't wipe the tear from her jaw line. You're afraid your water wrinkled fingers will remind her of him.
0
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Vita brevis
Your passing broke me into pieces- I am now incapable of love. I'll meet you soon, Grandfather.
0
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
Death
When I gaze into the mirror my mother's eyes peer out on the first day with a twinkle on the next a wistful pout Though our eyes are different colors more alike we are then no still her thoughts to me a mystery she may never choose to show The mirror on another day my grandmother becomes watching birds at breakfast saving them the finest crumbs Formidable and frightening she could also often be all too human and imperfect still she helped to make me me Great-grandmother another day the mirror then became though much lighter of complexion now the eyes were much the same Though a humorous and honest soul emotions quite repressed she affects me still more deeply than I ever would have guessed Today within the looking glass the only face I see is the youngest culmination of these elder women three And I see them all within me in my talents and my quirks still I wish that they had taught me how to stay away from jerks.
0
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
When I Gaze Into the Mirror
From baby to sitter in sixty flat; Ozymandais, Try speaking to that. But I am here, And He? Her smile, And drip On my knee: And then, She looks up At me.
0
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
From Baby to Sitter
She thought that no one would come. Everyone's someone was there laden with sweet kisses so craved. She felt his gaze on her back, gentle warm strokes like the sun. She had seen him in the night, longing's whisper brought to life an image her heart had saved. She heard him call out her name felt her lungs draw fresh breath and her tears kiss her pale cheeks. He thought he'd never get there. His body trembles and aches underneath the mask he weaves. He draws her into his chest kissing the top of her head breathing in golden blessings. Every pretense leaves him then. He feels her spirit in his bones. He holds her tighter, closer, feeling familiar pain pangs, as fears' tears stream down his face. They thought more of each other choosing not to dwell on self but to give rather than to receive. Fingers tracing round faces. Eyes locked dancing together. Hospital stench, ****** sheets fade into wedding vow fabric made clean by a lifetime's love. Wander, wander, wandering and though neither knows to where shared is a love that knows all.
0
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 6:10 PM UTC
White Wanderlust