| One Last Lament Reflecting on the time we shared, I face eternal sleep. I cannot move, I'm blinded — tears? How strange that I should weep. The cancer did its deed with haste, Pain yields to lasting rest. My life was full with few regrets, And just this last request — I want to live! For what sane man Would will his life to end? My faith sustains, I'll carry on, Sans family, flesh, and friend. So carry on, collect my soul! Why should I feel content To leave all that I've come to love Without one last lament? |
My grandfather found out about his cancer so suddenly, and faced it so stoically, that I was both inspired and confused. He was the epitome of this peaceful resignation I talked about with my great-grandparents. One week he feels fine, two weeks later he's dying of cancer. Granted he probably had the cancer for a long time without knowing it, but to find out all of the sudden that your life would be over — and soon... But he said the classic "I've lived a good life" and marched on to his fate, a true Marine. My grandfather had such presence, he was a man who believed in honor and lived by it. He never complained, but accepted the cards he was dealt. So while this might seem on the surface like his last lament, it was really my soul screaming out in grief and anger over what he calmly accepted... the end. |
| This is why the book is called Leaving Home. If you have noticed the theme of the poems I have shared with you, I discovered things about life the more I left the safety of my own home and childhood. The more I discovered, the further from that sense of safety and security I was. I'm not a negative person, I'm not going to say that I never discovered anything good or beautiful during these adventures, but I do believe innocence is lost every time experience is gained. When my grandfather died, my childhood died. All of the sudden, someone I spent time with, cared deeply about, someone who showed me unconditional love and was proud of me to an extent that I don't feel I deserve... was gone. It's not that I didn't love my great-grandmothers, but I didn't spend a lot of time with them and even as a child I think I was prepared that they would not be around — after all, I only had two living out of my eight great-grandparents to start. With my grandfather gone, I experienced true loss. Childhood was over, and home would never be the same. | Grandfather I have not forgotten how you grew old and frail, While I was doing other things, And passed away before I was prepared. And now your body does decay — The lap where I would sit no more, The affectionate embrace, Never to be felt again. Your memory decays as well As here I grieve and grasp at strands Of fond remembrance, Unraveling with undue haste. Desperately, I pray to find lost memories again And write them down to recollect Once time has finished ravaging my mind. Posterity will know your worth to me. And know the price that I would pay To sit with you once more And share a moment like those precious few That bear the burden of your identity. I still bask in the radiance of your loving pride And live for your esteem And bear the shame for when I failed to be The grandson you deserved. |
