I remember how you’ve always told me the story of the day I was born

And how the doctors had tried to turn me the day before.

You constantly recount my very first airplane ride

Always describing 10-month-old me screaming and crying.

I can never forget that day in September of my first grade year

When you told me that Grandpa Paul was with God.

 How I instantly collapsed into your lap and sobbed with all my heart

I remember you not being home for Christmas that year.

You spent that Christmas at your father’s funeral,

Which I think was on Christmas Day.

For the remainder of my first grade year I never went out for recess.  

Instead, hidden inside the walls of the guidance office, I would curse God for taking my precious grandfather away.

I have many more memories to remember

And I don’t want to forget them forever.