He meant nothing to me,
but so much to her
so I force the ducts to expel
a torrent of salt and water
to show her I care,
if not for him
then at least for her.
There was no blood there,
but years of togetherness
was all she really knew.
He was her grandfather
even if he was only her
grandmother’s husband.
My mind is filled with effort
to attempt to continue crying
and not think about time,
or worse: how good she smelled.
The eulogy starts
and the words,
I try to let them slip,
but fail and end up
listening and forgetting
everything around me
and thinking about
my grandfather,
my only father,
and the day I would
lose him.
The tears become real
and I pass into being lost.