The Day You Died

The Day you Died I felt

Nothing.

It's not that I didn't care. No, I did.

But I felt an abyss. Emptiness. A black hole.

No sensation. You dead, I alive

But both, in destiny, tied.

My grandfather? Sort of.

You married my grandmother. You were her husband.

I never had a grandfather. Then you came along;

She moved away to live with you - I visited Chicago, that big city - to see you two

But then I came back.

That Day, I got a phone call.

She sniffled and cried and said, "Grampa Don died."

But I felt nothing. Because I never had a grandfather before, and 

once again - it's as if I never had a grandfather to begin with.