Victoria C Zickas - Grandpa

A grandma sat next to a grandpa.

Head straight down, stifled crying and praying. 

The low-lit room was cluttered with silence

And a new family friend held her hand

As one cousin paced, another one left.

His anguish was loud and everyone heard.

The head of the household, barely heard.

They stood and rattles came out of grandpa. 

His breathing stopped, making them think he left. 

Grandma’s grip tightened, whispering, praying;

Her small, gentle tears falling on his hand.

His breathing returns, blocking the silence.

The cousin came back, filled up with silence

And the rest of the family was heard.

The family stood around, hand in hand,

All staring at their bed-ridden grandpa, 

Who could only hear their thoughtful praying

Through his cold ears. His hearing hadn’t left.

This time, the sorrowed, older daughter left,

Scared of the unstoppable future silence. (11) 

The daughter, long ago, had stopped praying

For her ill father. Everyone had heard

A horrid noise sounded out of grandpa.

His eyes opened and he squeezed his wife’s hand. 

Everyone stopped crying as his rashed hand

Lifted up, a smile appeared. It left

And then Yellow foam poured out of grandpa.

That marked the end of the awful silence.

Beautiful cries were all that could be heard

And his wife let go and she stopped praying.

His strewn-out death was the one thing preying

Their minds. His slack arm fell and then his hand

Followed. The granddaughter’s scream could be heard 

As his distraught, younger daughter quickly left

In shambles. Her ex stood in cold silence.

He got his wish, they were there for grandpa.

At home they were heard, quietly praying

For their grandpa. Rosary lay in hand,

He left, but was still heard in the silence.