The way the door opened,
and my mom walked in.
The way she sounded when she said
“It’s time to say goodbye”
The way the hospital looked so clean and shiny.
The way I thought that the hospital had no right
to be so cheerful, when we were all so sad.
The way my grandfather looked,
so weak and tired.
The way I looked at him and cried, mad at myself
for all the times I forgot
“I love you”
The way I saw my dad cry for the first time.
The way everyone thought that he was going to
fight it and survive.
The way I could smell the plastic gloves,
that wouldn’t help at all.
The way everyone was completely shocked
when the doctor said
“Its all over his body”
The way my grandma held in all those tears,
when all she wanted to do was let them go.
The way I cried forever,
praying he would live.
The way I kissed my mom goodnight,
and she was silently crying.
The way I told my grandfather that it was ok to let go.
The way I went to summer camp,
hoping it wouldn’t happen while I was away.
The way my mom said
“Wear a colorful dress to his funeral”
The way I watched my sisters cry,
along with myself.
The way I lost someone I loved so much.
The way I still cry over this story and the song
Wonderful World.
The way I look at his picture and sadly smile.
About the Author:
Jill Berray is 11 years old and is in Peter Blau's Do You Want to be a Writer class at the Loft this summer.
