Hospital machines beep,
Reminding us that nothing is the same.
It’s not okay, he’s not okay.
He looks so comfortable,
As if he’s sleeping.
It almost had me fooled,
Almost, not quite.
I can see he’s breathing,
Barely, in and out,
His chest rising

                       and falling.

I walk over and take his hand,         shaking,
Thinking of the good times, the good memories.
I’m so young. I shouldn’t be doing this.
I shouldn’t be as terrified as I am.
It’s time to go,             I’m leaving now.
I squeeze, waiting.
Nothing. No squeeze back.
I whisper I love you more as I leave.
The phone rings. It’s the call we’d been dreading.
“He’s passed,” they say.
“He’s in a better place.”
I don’t understand.
The tears stream down my face
as hot as the sun.
The bouquet says more.
I sit and read it over and over again
I feel my heart shattering
like a broken mirror...
I can hear him,
My grandpa saying I love you
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