The Approaching Night

I wander through the pages of a book.
I hear my name being called.
Across the room of stories,
stands the silhouette of my mother.

Quickly, I gather my books.
A millions thoughts race in my head.
Yet I remain calm
and don’t utter a word.

The white snow is all I see,
as I gaze out the window
pleading God that what I thought,
was not true.

I walk through the hospital halls.
My mind begins to shut down.
Blackness engulfs my every move.
I’m trapped in my worst nightmare.

As I approach the ominous room,
I begin to tremble.
I reach for the handle
my ears flood with tears.

The door opens itself.
The shades are drawn,
the lights, dark,
and a body, silent on the bed.

Inching my way closer,
my breathing begins to quicken.
How could this happen?
Why me?

My grandma,
my best friend,
lays lifeless,
in a cold, dark room.

My body shakes,
tears fall onto the pillow,
as I lay next to her
for the last time.

It is at this time
when family
is to be most valuable.
Sadly, it’s not.

Sadness turned to anger,
weeping became screaming,
broken minds
to broken glass.

Ties were broken,
some of which will never be mend.
The sun in our lives
has disappeared.

Living without the sun
is a constant struggle.
But light must be found,
even if it’s from a distant star.

Seconds turn to minutes,
minutes to days,
days to years,
and now, here I am.

3 years later.
Not a day passes
that I don’t think of her,
my grandma.

If only I had one more day,
one more hug,
one more conversation,
one more smile.

But she looks down
from the brightest star.
I hear her voice
reminding me that I am so loved.

Yet I ask myself,
“Would she be proud?”
The answer remains the same.
Always.