Poem fifteen

your granddaughter is getting big.

her legs are bungee cords she can’t stop jumping.

her smile is my light.

it radiates toothless and drooling.

she’s a happy soul.

your son is a man and a father and a good brother to his siblings.

his mannerisms pattern yours.

his posture is your posture.

the resemblance is undeniable.

your daughter is still special.

one of a kind she follows her own path in her own bubble.

her smile is wide and bright.

timidly she is walking into her destiny.

she misses you so much she rarely cries.

your daughter is still seeking.

daily she wakes up gives thanks and thinks about you.

her days are filled with sunshine and smiles and God.

We are all where we are supposed to be in our lives.

living in patterns of each other though different ages and mothers

we are one mass of flesh connected by blood and noses and jokes seemingly not funny yet hilarious.

you are missed.

you are missed.

there aren’t any words to describe the feeling of your large presence being gone.

the remnants of your body lives in us until our time comes.

we are prepared.

we are preparing.

we are living in a manner that reflects everything you tried to be and couldn’t.

and that is okay.


there are days when I think I can see your face on my bedroom wall.

there are times of the day when I can feel you pass through my body.

days when I hear you talk to me.

it is your voice gently moving me forward.

I hear you.


i see you.


almost a year to your death.

I shut down on your birthday this year.

closed myself off to the world and its responsibilities.

this is natural.

it is the highest level of grief.

these days will get easier without you.

I am living so I may hug you again.




About monalisasrandomthoughts

I craft people poems. I laugh out-loud. I love all things. Everything is about order. My movements are chess. Everything to me calculates. I just look like this.
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