Grandfather
When she
Was three
She wanted
To see
A picture
Of me
When I was
Little
She turned
The pages
Of the book
And asked,
“Who’s that?”
I told her
That was my
Dad
She asked,
“Where is he?”
I didn’t say
Anything
She asked,
“Did he die?”
“Yes,” I said. “His heart gave out.”
She asked,
“Do you miss him?”
“All the time,” I said.
She cried and said,
“I wish I could known him.”
“He sure would have loved you,” I said.
“He would have been your grandfather.”
She asked,
“Do you still miss him?”
“Yes … I missed him when
I married your dad.
I missed him when
You were born …”
In tears she asked,
“Will he ever come back?”
“No,” I said. “He can’t.”
She asked,
“Why not?”
I put my hand
On my heart
And told her
he lives
Right here
She asked again,
“Will he ever come back?”
I told her
That I believed
There was a place
Called Heaven
And that he could
See us from there,
But we couldn’t
See him
She asked,
“Why not?”
I told her
It was
Like magic,
Like Santa Clause
And how we never
See him
When he puts
Our presents under the tree
But we know
He’s been there
In tears she asked,
“Will my daddy ever die?”
I hugged her
Told her not to worry
About that
She asked,
“Will you die?”
I hugged her
Told her not to worry
About that
She asked,
“Will I die?”
I hugged her
Told her not to worry
About that
TL