During the fall, the sunsets begin with deep orange and end with dark blue. You. Today my grandma couldn’t stop crying because she said it was hard to breathe. Cancer. God works in mysterious ways. Some days I love him, some days I resent him, and other days I doubt him. He is my most unstable relationship. Why did it take me so long to learn how lucky I am? To have love, support and acceptance. I can breathe. I can breathe without crying. I have a future. I have a life that seems full of promises. I have endless opportunities for growth. I haven’t seen you in almost three years. I almost can’t imagine you but, sometimes I try to. Tumors grow, radiation burns, and chemo takes. I can’t expect her to fight for a life that’s not fighting for her. An unstable relationship, maybe worse than God and I. Why doesn’t her body realize how lucky it is? To be able to hold and contain immense amounts of love and a lifetime of memories. A museum shouldn’t crumble in a thunderstorm, nor a tornado, or an earthquake. Everyone isn’t supposed to live the same life. The only thing humans have in common besides life is death. We all die. Some are meant to die in a car accident, some are destined to die of cancer, childbirth, an allergic reaction, a broken heart and of course, old age. Who's to say they’re the lucky ones? To live the longest life and accomplish all their dreams? When does someone stop dreaming? What’s the point of life if we aren’t dreaming? If we aren’t creating and loving and hoping? Will I ever stop dreaming? I hope not. I don’t think I could ever call death lucky. It seems terrifying. How has she been able to look death in the eyes and continue on? How does she sleep? How does she still dream? Is there a point? We can’t all die at 96 years old, in our bed, surrounded by our children and our grandchildren and our grandchildren’s children. We can’t all die holding our loved one’s hand and saying goodbye. Saying “I'll see you soon.” and believing it. I don’t know if I'll be that lucky. But I know, I'll be lucky enough to die with love. I will die loved, and I will die loving. I will love my family, my friends, my garden, my pets, all the sunsets and sunrises, every tear and every laugh, every moment when time stood still for me; the building’s lights and the way they illuminate the dark nights just enough for me to always find my way back home. They remind me so much of you. I will die loving everything around me, because I know now, how lucky I am to be alive. 

This poem is about: 
My family


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741