My Grandpa: A Poem

One year has passed since I got the call. I'd been expecting to wake up on a Friday morning and hear that my grandpa's surgery had gone well. Instead, the call that came told me to come in and say my goodbyes. This poem is for my grandpa on the anniversary of his death.

Photo by Jessica Lewis Creative via Pexels

My Grandpa

My grandpa was a farmer, a man of the heartland.

He was a veteran for this nation, on which I stand.

My grandpa was a son, a brother, a husband, a dad,

But to me he was grandpa, the best to be had.

Visiting my grandparents down south was always special to me.

I’ll always associate my grandpa with strawberries.

Stops were a must at Checkers and Orange Blossom.

Eating at Leverock’s, too, rounded out the awesome.

Grandpa was exceptional at working with wood.

Crafting clocks, a cradle and more was a subject he understood.

He was also with the stock market impressively adept,

Gauging the market and fluctuations and financial concepts.

Since I was little, I’ve used his mom’s bedroom set,

And this part of his mom’s history he did not forget.

He was tickled pink when he saw it, from his head to his feet,

A big grin and a bounce in his step was too sweet.

Grandpa always wanted to see us succeed,

To be happy and healthy and thriving, indeed.

One year has passed and you are missed, it’s true.

I am sending infinite hugs up to you!

-LK

September 3, 2022

(Written March 31, 2022)