With a heavy heart I visit her today, same as yesterday and the day before.
People say it's crazy how devoted I am, but I tell them it's really not a chore.
There lies a fraction of the person she once was.
I almost don't recognize her in this state.
Her auburn hair that once flowed long, now has turned lifeless and grey.
Her body has since betrayed her.
Her once beautiful mind, too.
Her bones have became weak and brittle.
And today she can't even put on her shoes.
But I can't hold that against her.
None of it is her own fault.
Time is a cruel and crafted web,
one in which we eventually all get caught.
Wrinkled, chapped skin and a shrill, chipper tone,
She still is just as sweet.
Her childhood memories flash and they make her smile.
How she yearns to be back on her feet!
She was a spitfire way back in her prime, now a victim of sad circumstance.
She hums lowly a melodic tune from her era.
All she wants to do is sing and dance.
I sit at the foot of her bed.
She asks, "Where am I?" and "What is this place?"
I tell her that she is resting in a hospital.
She now wears a half grin on her poor, emaciated face.
I notice her hands, they are freezing.
Her skin is all icy, blue and pale.
She doesn't remember me again today.
This never sits with me well.
I want her to know that I love her,
And to know me again before she dies.
It crushes me to see her like this.
A couple tears escape my saddened eyes.
She's always been a long talker.
Though to her, I'm some random stranger.
But I suppose she senses my love.
And that I pose no danger.
She holds my hand and she softly speaks,
"Do you ever just want to get out and have some fun?"
I tell her that I do and she says she does too and then she says,
"You remind me a lot of my son."
Her eyes light up and she smiles so big.
She doesn't recall her son passing away.
So I dare not tell her who I am,
For I don't want to conflict her in any way.
Quickly, I change the subject.
I talk about how pretty she is instead.
She argues that she knows better.
I tell her she's a beauty queen in a hospital bed.
Though she won't admit it, she enjoys the flattery.
I suppose it never hurts to be kind.
Her life is now like a dying battery inside of a watch that you can't rewind.
For a few more days, the same routine ensued.
I'm thankful she remembered who I am.
I had to let her go and be with her maker,
but in my heart lives my one and only Grams.