My grandad passes awayMature

My grandad passes away

It was a fortnight later,

The day after I turned fourteen,

That my grandad passed away.


A respiratory illness,

Had my grandad had,

For quite a few years.


My dad and stepfamily,

I may prefer as people,

But that did not mean,

That my grandad's demise,

Completely unaffected me.


I am not heartless after all,

I had certainly cared,

Even if not the way I should,

And I knew,

My dad had respected my grandad.


Weeks afterwards,

When myself, mom and my aunt,

We were in the car,

In my bitterness I couldn't resist.

I retorted I was only living for them.


I was being extra clever,

As I well knew,

For in reality I meant,

I prolonged my life,

For my dad, my stepfamily and Hillary,

Though naturally could not say so.


Even now do I recall,

My aunt's return remark,

"Oh we are supposed to be grateful are we?"

The first instance,

Of real solid dramatic irony,

As I discovered years later,

In my study of Othello.


Actually, in answer to my aunt,

I stated a true fact,

And never asked for gratitude,

Perhaps such games,

They were stupid,

Yet the power I possessed,

I guess I couldn't resist it.

The End

120 comments about this poem Feed