#FOWC

Doleful as an adjective is expressing sorrow; mournful.

I’ve chosen a poem I wrote about my grandson. We raise our children to believe they can do anything but sometimes that fearlessness goes to far. Johnny had ridden a dirt bike for years but like all boys wanted a bigger and faster bike. He worked hard and saved for the bike. 24 hours after he purchased it, that bike killed him.

I’m still in mourning. We’re all still in mourning. I think we’ll always be.

John

antics of a boy
invincible illusions
echo silently
reverberations define
self-inflicted martyrdom

It doesn’t get any easier without you. I was standing in the kitchen looking at the school pictures on the book case and began crying. There won’t be a new school picture but then I realized with the distance learning I probably want be changing any school pictures. I cried even harder. Everything Gram’s always taken for granted is changed. The biggest change of all is you’re not here.

Your friends are struggling with the distance learning, no football games as of yet. I would give anything to hear you bitching about all the stuff happening right now.

Your chimes were active this morning… the wind was coming from the northeast. Just like where you used to be from Grandma.

Your sisters both have their own places now. I’m putting stuff together for them both. Grandma won’t need all of this stuff once she moves. It’s time to downsize. Or as your Dad would crap… crap.. Grandma has too much crap.

We love you. We miss you so much. ❤

5 thoughts on “#FOWC

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