Grandpa

You were supposed to grow your hair back.

You were supposed to take me to the wooden playground

and the museum again.

You were supposed to get cows again

and then come in from the pasture

while I was eating breakfast

and Grandma was washing dishes or doing crosswords.

You were supposed to see myself and

the rest of the grandchildren

get married.

You were supposed to show me your rock collection again.

You were supposed to keep being the tallest person in the family.

You were supposed to tell me

one last time

that you loved me.

You were supposed to hug me again,

push me on the swings again.

You weren't supposed to leave.

You weren't supposed to break our hearts.

You weren't supposed to leave-

taking the only Grandpa I ever knew with you.

Grandpa, I love you.

But you weren't supposed to leave.