You are the pontoon boat puttering 

down the narrow channel, 

the warm summery shaft of 

illuminating light glistening down on my ghostly skin. 

You are the drive on the winding 

rural unpaved bumpy road. 

Similar to the challenges you’ve faced in life.

You are the towering twisted 

soft-served ice cream cone 

dripped in emerald green syrup 

That tasted like a peppermint candy cane at the peak of the Christmas season. 

When we gathered in the living room 

eagerly awaiting for your famous Christmas speech. 

The end was quick.

I regret that summer. I was selfish. 

I didn't come up north that much because I had homework from summer school. 

But screw that homework. 

Only if I knew that would be our last summer together. 

Only if I knew that it wasn’t just pneumonia. 

Only if I knew that the end was as fast as the speed of light. 

January 30th 2018 was the day that we lost you. 

One day you were fine and then the next you weren’t.

I wish I could have one last hug,

One last “I love you Grandpa”

One last summer,

And one last goodbye.