…
My daughter says your name with a smile on her face,
Not knowing it’s a knife to my chest
I keep waiting to miss you less
But the need still picks my skin, stings my eyes
Paint from your brush hangs on my walls
Humoring me, our initials same as twins
It cuts.
You should be here teaching me everything you know
All those times sweet turned bitter
Because it was missing your smile
Your joy
Your pride
You left this world but have yet to leave my mind
My life will always be less than
What I want it to be
Because I want it to be with you
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Beautiful, friend. I am sorry for the hurt :(
I haven’t had to go through this so much yet. My dad’s mom passed away when I was younger, but we were not as close, so it didn’t hurt as bad.
She died when I was in second grade so it’s been a while. It’s just, Em found a picture of her and I started talking to her about her and it got to me
My heart goes out to you in this. You’re a great other and grandaughter for making sure emma knows about her though. Hugs
What warms my heart is Em talks about her like she really knows her, even though she’s only ever seen pictures
I love this poem, and how heartfelt it is. Honest poetry is the best poetry, and what stings the most, to me anyway, is that you have always had a closer connection to her than i have, for various reasons, not least because of the painting/arts-and-crafts connection. I’m glad you wrote this.
It’s interesting how that works since you’re old enough to remember more about her. I’m glad we both had her for the small time we did.
It’s so genuine. .thanks for sharing :)
It’s very transparent of me. I’m glad you felt it.
I pray you get all the happiness :) ..thank you for showing a little part of your life