I watch you breath through those i.v tubes and shudder. Your black, curly hair shuffles around the pillow, & reminds me of that hair dye you use which scent is so addicting. Sometimes, I still smell that scent when I walk past the bathroom. I see me and you and stephanie brushing our teeth during those nights when mom and dad were at work- you were our life tutor. We even used those tongue scrapers which tickled & now that I think of it, seemed pretty useless.
Your purse lied beside your bed, and hidden inside are those hard candy treats that tasted like leather [your purse]. We still ate them anyways, because you gave them to us.
The hospital food smelled like crap compared to how you cooked. I smell the aromas of my favorite chinese food, especially made for me, because I only ate the food you cooked [and sometimes mom's]. We used to eat noodles while the rain drops slid down our window sill, with just me, you, and steph. Then after we finished, you would encourage us to do our chinese school homework. [I hated it.] You sure were proud of our culture.
When I was younger, I always wondered why you didn't give us cookies or money like those other grandmothers. But now, I realized, ever since you left, you gave us the most precious gift- love. No, it never did come in a fancy-wrapped box. It was a 12 year package. (well, for me.) Using those ropes and belts to discipline us was certainly painful, but it was suprisingly worth it. Luckily, we turned out better than the others.
Three months passed, and the plug was pulled. I felt like dying & sending myself down to hell[BURN]. My guilt inside for those times I screamed at you were suddenly all visible. My stomach twists as I run to the garbage. You lie there, gasping and struggling for air, and all I could've done was watch. watch you die. fail. surrender.
I took advantage of your existence.
your existence- is no longer valid.
How ironic to think someone so strong could lose to something the size of a melon in life...
Author notes
I'm chinese, and culture was very important to us...Especially to my grandma. We don't speak maderin in our house, but a dilect that isn't well known. If you read this poem, I hope you can look deeper into the meaning to see that my grandma & myself+ three other sisters had so much more than a visit on the weekends to retirement homes. She lived with us our entire lives, aided my parents, the whole way. Sometimes I feel so guilty about the way we treated her, I wished I could reverse time. But that's life, I guess. No rewind buttons.
my grandma's death also changed my view in my religious life...God can't save you, even if you're praying until your hands bruise from the pressure. I prayed. & prayed for her to get better. But nothing ever changed.
sorry it's not in poem format. I felt it would mean more if it was seen differently.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"We still ate them anyways, because you gave them to us. "
you have had some good life-lesson memories with your grandmother it seems. I'm sorry about your guilt, but I'm sure she knew you loved her.
thanks for entering this
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