You wander in here, day in, day out and you wonder
Why I lie still on the sofa. I know you wonder.
I've heard the question posed to mothers, and aunts, and uncles.
But not to grandmothers. You wonder why? I'll tell you.
I am waiting.

Sit down, child, and listen to my story. A story of sadness,
Of love lost, life wasted.
When I was your age, child, I had been at work
For a year, using machinery thrice as old as I was
To mine coal from the ground. A precious stone, a hated rock.
That rock put food in the mouth of your father.
And stained the underneath of fingernails terribly. It is there
Now, nearly fifty years later. Do you see it?
I am stained.

A boy must come of fighting age and so I did,
And went to Korea to fight in a war I cared nothing about.
It's not all episodes of M*A*S*H. But it put food
On the table.

And your grandmother, she waited then as she waits
Now, patiently bying her time until we are
Together again. God, I miss her. Together we brought
Up this family. But it is up now, and I am needed no longer.
It is time.

Come a little closer, child, and give Grandad a hug. Please
Don't cry, boy. You'll make me cry, too. That's how I came
Into this world. That's not how I want to leave it. Not how I want you
To remember me. You bear my name, boy, you'll be strong, like me.
Don't cry, child, don't cry. Please don't cry for me. I am waiting. And. . .
I love you.

This poem was written in the voice of my grandfather, and I tried
To imagine what he would have said to me, had he said
Anything at all. He may have, I don't remember. I do remember that
I loved him very much, and I don't know if I ever told him. Sometimes
It's hard to remember what he looked like. He died in 1983. I was almost
Six years old.

I cried when I wrote this.