Ce week-end a été difficile pour moi parce que le samedi a marqué l'anniversaire de quatre ans la mort de ma grand-mère Lucy Peterson. Elle est décédée ma troisième année de lycée. Elle est la personne la plus incroyable que j'aie jamais connu. Elle était véritablement le cœur de ma famille. Elle est décédée d'un cancer du foie, donc elle était très malade avant sa mort. J'ai pu voir une dernière fois au cours de l'Action de grâces ma troisième année de lycée. Immédiatement après que je l'ai vue, j'ai écrit un poème sur l'appelait Our Last Visit
Our Last Visit
There she is,
I walk in.
Sitting in a
Chair with a
Blanket draped
Across her to keep
Her legs warm.
I am the last one
To walk in.
I give her a kiss
On the cheek and
She looks at me
As if she is
Ashamed. As if she
Is ashamed of what
She has become,
When it is really
I who should be
Ashamed. Ashamed
Of all of the years
That I've taken
For granted.
But as soon as
We've said hello,
We must say goodbye.
And as i walk past her
She looks up at me
With a tear in her eye
And she knows that I love her.
Our Last Visit
There she is,
I walk in.
Sitting in a
Chair with a
Blanket draped
Across her to keep
Her legs warm.
I am the last one
To walk in.
I give her a kiss
On the cheek and
She looks at me
As if she is
Ashamed. As if she
Is ashamed of what
She has become,
When it is really
I who should be
Ashamed. Ashamed
Of all of the years
That I've taken
For granted.
But as soon as
We've said hello,
We must say goodbye.
And as i walk past her
She looks up at me
With a tear in her eye
And she knows that I love her.
