A Grandparent

Its about to happen. I know it is. I can feel it coming.

She is gone. She has faded into that silent night. She has left this mortal coil behind.

And what does she leave behind? What is left when her soul has shoved off from the shores of earth?

A daughter who believes she might be doing the wrong thing. A son who doesn't know what to do either. A granddaughter who can't help but beat herself up about a past that she doesn't have any control over. Numerous others. Sisters, brothers, grandchildren. A whole family deserted.

Is it selfish that I wish that we could've somehow had a relationship? Is it wrong that part of me wishes you were already gone so that I wouldn't have to feel this heavy guilt? I would feel it anyway, I know. Is it wrong that I don't know how to mourn or how to feel?

Is it selfish that I want you to stay alive just so your daughter doesn't cry anymore? Is it selfish that I hate you, though I don't believe in hating the dead?

I don't hate you. I don't love you. I don't know what I feel for you, except empty numbness.

Sleep well, Grandmother. When you leave this mortal plane, I hope that you sleep well.