Posted: February 13, 2011 in Poems
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,


I called my grand-mother around August, in 1997. She mentioned that she had found a lump and that she had been in some pain. I told her that it was important that she got checked out by her doctor. I am not too sure that she did.

My aunt called me around November to say that my Grandmother had cancer of the liver. She was outraged to hear of the conversation from August. My grandmother hadn’t told anyone you see. By chance my aunt had forced her to see a doctor because she was in pain.

They gave her 6 months to a year in November 97. This changed to 3-6 months by December 97. She died January 6th 1998:

You really should have told me.
You must have known you could.

Your race against the reaper.
Dark gaze beneath the hood.

His hand upon your shoulder.
Despair at every turn.

I would have tried to help you.
The pain within me burns.

And now you lie defeated.
Too late, your journey ends.

The surgeons couldn’t save you.
Nor I – your only friend.


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