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The one day that is mine.
The one that we celebrate for me,
and only me,
with delicious cake and thoughtful presents.
The candles danced and the presents teased me, taunted me.
Then, my day was suddenly shared.
But not because someone came to be,
My day, is now covered by the dark shadow,
of the one many loved,
the one, I, looked forward to visit.
Too see her in her small room as people cared for her,
as she rolled around in her wheel chair.
Too give her a nice, warm hug,
while she placed her kind, brittle arms around me.
And my day was suddenly shared.
Was this fair? Should I be upset? Should I be content?
As I walked up to her I touched her small, cold, tender hand and said,
“Grandma, I will always remember you and you will always remember me…”