On the drive home, I noticed all the children racing around playgrounds,

people walking their dogs,

everyone being able to go about their lives while mine had been completely put on pause.

All I could think was why. There were terrible people out there, still  pumping blood into their veins,

omitting carbon dioxide into the air, continuing to do the world no good and yet the sweetest person I knew was taken from me.

There was an immediate sense of tension and somber that piled into my home.

I found my Grandma in the back room sobbing into oblivion.

The sounds of her tears and moans struck a cord into my heart playing the sourest note possible.

When she noticed my presence, she requested my existence by her side.

She slowly embraced me and whispered “He’s gone” and began sobbing again.

Those two words left a loud ringing in my ear, in that moment everything became so surreal.

The paramedics then migrate their way through crowds of mourners, coming to a halt at the body.

They wrapped the body into what looked like a trash bag,

as if it wasn’t once a person with feelings, memories, thoughts and opinions.

Nothing more than a measly large amount of garbage.

My family piled out into the front yard to watch the ambulance drive off.

He was really gone.


This poem is about: 
My family


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