My Grandfather had been on life support for over sixty days. His final gift to us was to stay miserably alive for three more days so we could say our goodbyes. He was taken home, where he wished to die peacefully. And with a few quick gasps in a still roo


Heart Monitor

Upon my entering the room he says "Hey sweetie," and I fail to breathe.

After ten minutes of regaining my composure, I re-enter and he recalls calling me "Beautiful", and says there's "Not a mark on you."


Whisper, I love you.
Whisper, I pray for you.
Take gentle hold of a bruised hand.
Naturally tan skin gracefully draped over slendor bones.
We each stroke the other's hand, my palm, your knuckles.
My warmth spreads to your frozen flesh, heating blood as it passes through.
Each breath is a present, each gasp a warning.
Each word is a sunset, each cough a thundercloud.



Before I leave, "I will be right back, okay?", he says "Thank you for your help," and I smile. Touch fingers lightly on his forehead, kiss his cheek, exit.

His terrified wife says, "He called you 'beautiful', the biggest word he's said today."




Poetry by kaytee
Read 751 times
Written on 2008-06-12 at 00:04

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amandeep
this is quite beautiful and so real...
2008-06-12


limber junctionson
his beautiful is you.
a resounding remembrance.
you must be proud of him.
2008-06-12