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Great Grandpa<br />
by Patrick Moffett<br />
I stood in silence as a throbbing ache passed through my throat. Alone in my room, I<br />
sat and cried, and w<strong>is</strong>hed I could have hugged<br />
you one last time. At your wake, I saw you lying<br />
in that bed of death, stationary and lifeless. I<br />
touched your hand, and the dry texture of your<br />
skin clawed at my fingertips. <strong>The</strong>re you lay, in<br />
your suit draped with honorary medals and<br />
awards that you won for your efforts in <strong>World</strong><br />
War II. I stood there awhile and dreamed of you<br />
r<strong>is</strong>ing up from the casket and embracing me one<br />
last time. <strong>The</strong>re I looked into your lifeless eyes<br />
and wondered why you’d left me. I stood there<br />
and w<strong>is</strong>hed for you to come back. I stood there<br />
and w<strong>is</strong>hed to smell the peppermint aroma that<br />
once permeated your worn brown sweater, the<br />
one that you always wore around Chr<strong>is</strong>tmas<br />
time. I stood there and w<strong>is</strong>hed to feel the<br />
warmth you once brought with you wherever you<br />
went.<br />
Rose Milando<br />
As I left the funeral home, I felt a sort of desperation<br />
to see you once more, even if you were just lying there, cold and departed. I wanted<br />
to say goodbye, for I had not before. I ran back inside and placed my hand on your heart,<br />
and said my final goodbye. Again, I stood there, but th<strong>is</strong> time, I was at peace, for I knew you<br />
would always with me, as I am sure you are with me even now. Whether you are in my<br />
heart, or in a passing butterfly gliding le<strong>is</strong>urely above a bit of a green meadow, I know you<br />
are with me, and more importantly, I know you love me still.<br />
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