Grandfather

Grandfather

My first memories of him were gruff.
Commanding, "Leave that dog alone!"
Or, "Hey, get out of the water!"
His deep German voice rough,
Over the yard his shout had flown,
To me, his unruly Granddaughter.

Whatever the work, no matter how tough,
It was always expected, ethic ingrown,
To work very hard, not be a squatter.
He'd grab a lazy child by the scruff,
And let his displeasure be known.
I grew up strong, his Granddaughter.

He loved me, I always knew.

Then it came, the news was rough.
"Damn cancer," he said with a groan.
"I can beat this with chemo, no matter."
Three treatments were not the right stuff.
Wasting, sickness, he suffered alone.
I was afraid for him, his Granddaughter.

He died, the medicine wasn't enough.
Buried as the Pastor quietly intoned.
Mom held me back, grieved, I fought her.
"I miss him so much." I said with a huff.
"I want him back, too." My mother moaned.
I mourned for him, his Granddaughter.

He loved us, we always knew.





Prelim 3 "SLAM!"