Remembrance

I was too young to realize
how young my Grandfather
was when he died.

He built a pontoon boat,
he square danced with Grandma,
he watched basketball religiously,
and went to church every Sunday.

I felt like I was his favorite,
he said I was his pickle.
He’d steal my nose (but give it back)
and join me on the swing.

We relaxed on his pontoon,
we’d row across the lake,
or walk along the seawall
trailing bamboo fishing rods.

He’d stand in the doorway
and wait under the mistletoe
so Grandma couldn’t pass
without sharing a kiss.

I remember his funeral
watching my Uncle weep,
mourning his passing,
while I refused to cry.

I was too young to realize
how young my Grandfather
was when he died.