I'd love to write a new piece tonight, but I would like to finish this homework before I have to walk into class at 9am with my chocolate chip waffles smeared with cream cheese and wrapped in a napkin (I HIGHLY recommend you try this breakfast treat). Therefore, here's a poem that I wrote about my Papa for my creative writing class a couple weeks ago. I'll probably edit it for my final portfolio, but this will do for now. It's called "Like You Missed Nana".
To this day, I don't know how you died.
I was 9, maybe 10, and even then
the idea that you died of a broken heart
You truly missed Nana, and
when Brenton's fall in love,
I know you couldn't bear to be away,
but did you have to go to her so soon?
I was nervous with you when I was small.
But I didn't see you often,
and I was very shy.
But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you.
I remember being at your wake.
You didn't look like you,
but Mama still lifted me up
so I could kiss your forehead one last time.
"Look honey, you left a tear on his head."
It brought me comfort to know
that I would be with you always
in some small way.
If you were here today,
I'd call you each week, like a granddaughter should.
And I'd ask you to have a drink with me
on the deck, at the beach house.
And when I bought my first car,
I'd bring you,
like when you came with me
to pick out my first Boogie Board
and watched me ride it in the waves
But on every drive to Rockport
and in every view of the ocean,
I see you in the passenger seat
or standing against the landscape.
And I miss you like you missed Nana.