I slowly entered the room
my eyes glued to the floor
unwilling
to look up.

Afraid to see.
Afraid to see my grandma who had once been vibrant
now cold and still.
Life goes on.

My eyes ignored my commands
to look down.
When I looked up
my breath had disappeared.

She looked like wax.
Eyes closed.
Unsmiling.
Wearing her favorite pink sweater.
Hands folded over her stomach.
The image will forever be engrained in my mind.
Life goes on.

I was numb. In denial.
I couldn’t say a final goodbye.
Broken.
Alone.
Life stopped.

Sadness washed over me like a wave.
She isn’t dead.
She’s alive.
She’ll tell me it was a cruel joke my cousin played.
Console my crying while scolding him.
And life would go on like normal.

Lies.
I lied to myself
And believed it.
I couldn’t say goodbye.
I never did.
My life went on.

To this day I wonder
what would’ve happened
had I said goodbye.
Words unspoken.
Hidden grief.
Life goes on.

I haven’t been to her gravesite since they buried her.
Hiding from the past I guess.
But I still wonder,
What might have been.
Had I said goodbye,
At the funeral.
My Grandmother’s funeral.

And yet,
Life goes on.