By andy on 06/03/2011
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When I was a baby, so I’m told,
Not being able to recall such an early age,
You’d hold me in your arms and talk
And stare with pride at your new-born grandson.
When I was little, and just a boy, I’d sit, amazed
Watching as you’d create, for me, some masterpiece.
A small toy made from just the basics, but from the heart.
These were the gifts that no moneys could buy.
When I was a little older, a teenager.
I remember Friday nights filled with joy.
We’d sit together, you, me, Gran, warm even in winter
As we watched the television, and laughed at the cartoons.
I remember birthdays, Christmas, New years.
I remember the smile as we’d toast each other.
And how can I forget the firm shake of the hand?
The love and strength gripping mine?
Where did we lose it? When I was older,
Nearing the end of teenage, we fell away.
The hand shake and pride-filled smile disappeared
And all that was left was duty and obligation.
Now that you are gone from us, I can grieve.
Can view painfully clear the broken links.
To this day I cannot wish in the new year, or Christmas
Without feeling the empty despair echoed in my parents’ eyes.
All you wanted from me, towards the end
Was a single pint; a night with just the two us.
Grandfather and boy. Yet I denied you even this.
I have no answers why, I guess no one ever truly does.
There are so many things I need to say.
Yet you are not here, and to say them now be too easy.
Would take away the meaning they had in life,
And I guess all I can say now, today, yesterday is....
I am sorry, Granda.
© By andy On 6/3/2011 7:31:21 AM