The Worst Thing

Today, I was told that the cancer which my grandfather had had spread to his lungs and his liver. My sister, my mother and I cried for a solid twenty minutes or so.

I wrote this poem in reflection of how I feel, now. I hate the fact that as far as I know, he's not a Christian, and I hate the fact that I know that soon he's going to be ... gone.

The worst thing is knowing
That everytime could be
The last time -
That it could be time
To say goodbye.

The worst thing is knowing
That there is nothing
We can do -
Except just let it
Happen, soon enough

The worst thing is knowing
That you don't
Believe -
But why? I don't
Want to let you go

The worst thing is knowing
That your days are
Numbered -
A final countdown of your
Long life.

Grandad, I hate knowing
That I can't
Help you -
Because I'm not a doctor
And you're so ill

Grandad, I hate knowing
That this is
Probably your
Last Christmas, and
I hate it.

The worst thing is knowing
That it's just going
To get worse -
For ever and ever, and I'll
Never be happy again.

The End

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