Dear Uncle.
I am turning 18 this year.
I have a lovely girlfriend who was honoured to meet you.
The Cat mom gave to you keeps you good company.
And your mother, my grandma comes to see you every day.
And I'm watching you slowly fade away.
Just as she watches you slowly fade away.
Your legs are becoming like flowers
That have felt winter's first shudder.
And your arms have already gone.
From a deadly disease's decay.
You're so strong because you keep smiling.
You're so strong because you pretend nothing's happening.
Your daughter, my cousin is watching her daddy fade.
You won't know the heartbreak your mother will feel.
As she kisses your forehead one last time.
And you won't see the tears shed by my grandfather.
So stoic in his thought-filled gaze.
Who's watching his best friend die.
You'll never know how much it means to me now.
When I remember you carrying me across rushing waters.
Our own excursions and adventures.
Throwing rocks at the grouse because we thought we could **** them.
The picture of your arms.
Tested by your military brothers
And the thrashing of your daughter.
The very same arms that carried me across rivers.
The very same arms that would throw rocks at the grouse with me
The very same arms that would drag me and hold me.
Would wrap around me during cold winter's crying.
They're gone and they're nothing and something's yet to replace them.
And it's funny
That wherever I go now I see you.
In songs that play over the radio.
Singing about death. And the desire to stand by and be strong.
And in the cartoons that my girlfriend shows me.
That reduce me to shaking and tears.
The fingers I hold pencils with
That I so lazily ignore my schoolwork with.
That you'll never get to use again.
In the guitar that I strum softly
While you sleep in the room across from me.
In the ash tray outside tucked beside your bench.
That when you smoke I hold for you.
And the forks and spoons my grandma feeds you with.
When you die
I will never forget you.
You and your laugh
weathered by what can only be described as your human reality.
Will haunt me relentlessly.
And I will drive down the road to your house when I go back to school every day.
And wonder if the new owners are keeping it clean.
I hope they can raise kids in that house
the same way you raised your daughter
And I pray to every god known to man.
That no one else on earth
will have to know the pain
of watching their grandma's heart lose a piece
and watching their silent grandfather hold his pain in for her.
Of watching a daughter who sits by you patiently
And scratches your head for you when it gets itchy.
My mother who yearns to spend every moment with you
Her little brother.
Who is so unfairly being taken away from her.
Your petty little arguments sure look stupid now.
And me
Who you carried across rivers
Oh so nonchalantly.
And still I have to wonder
It meant so much to me
Did it mean anything to you.