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.