Grandpa Bill

A Poem By Edith // 7/9/2007

I thought I saw you walking next to me, as I stepped upon the Chapel floor
Turns out I was wrong though, for what I saw was only the Chapel door.
I thought I heard your voice behind me, and so I quickly glanced around
But I was wrong once again… and the bare wooden pew was all I found.
I thought I saw your small red car, while we were on our way back home
I was sure I sighted some short grey hair, but I was wrong, and felt alone.

Couldn’t you have stayed just a while longer? Why did you have to leave?
I was there when you left, and until this day it is still painful to believe.
What is it like up there with the Virgin Mary by you? And d’ye still remember me?
I always stuck by your side – I was shy in public, you remember, see.
I miss your tallness, but I know you’re still looking down on me from above
I miss your quiet self, kind attitude; but most of all, grandpa, I miss your love.

You know I still feel very lonely as I write this; you’re not there to grin,
You aren’t smiling and towering over me like you used to – so tall and thin.
Remember when I washed a special wine-glass; I wanted you to have mine
Rinsing it with soap and water, drying it with towels, how I wanted it to shine!
But a sad incident took place… and it dropped and broke into many parts
I turned beat red, but you laughed and said, “It was the thought that counts!”

Most of the time when I think of you, memories of holidays enter my mind
It was never the gifts that concerned us; it was having you by our side!
Christmas Eve, snow upon the ground; you would roll up the driveway
Pull out gifts, but it was Christ and your presence, that made such a special day.
Easter morning, after Mass, you would come over with a big chocolate bar
But that was ignored, and we’d race to see who could hug you first and get to your car.

Thanksgiving Day and our cousins would come on over, so would you,
And if you were late I wouldn’t have a bite to eat until you arrived too.
Mom and Aunt Annie would cook, Viva and Moira would lend a hand,
Uncle Allan and dad would play guitar, Greg and Arthur in the box of sand,
Erin and I would rake the leaves; Falkor would jump in and blow them, as well,
You, Grandpa Bill and Grandma Constance, would sit, with oh so many stories to tell.

Then there were those gloomy seasons, after grandma passed away,
You would stick with us, night after night, day after day.
We would go to parks, fish in the pond, take walks, stare at the stars in the sky,
And now I ask myself the question, this very moment, “Why?”
I need you with me, to guide me and help me, to love me and tell me “Goodnight.”,
But I know that isn’t possible, at least, not in this world, but in the right.

So, Grandpa William, my German and Irish poppy, whom I love dearly
Promise me we’ll meet again someday? Will you help me get there? – Really?
I am told to go to bed now, so I will say “God love ye” and “auf Wiedersehen”,
I don’t know if I spelled that right, so forgive me, I’ll look it up if I can…
Bless my hands, my feet, my eyes, my mouth, my head,
And watch over me as I sleep tonight, in dreamland upon my bed.


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