GRIEF Poem: The final tending, by Juliana Laury

On this day
Four years ago
My grandmother breathed her last
Taken swiftly
As I slept
That new virus
Became a mercy
She had dementia
You see
New to that home
That bed where she would die
Surrounded by people losing their minds
And strangers caring for them
These strangers
These people I’ve never met
Were the ones that found her
Washed her
Perhaps even prayed for her
In the days of old
In far off lands
I should have been the one to find her
To wash her
To close her unblinking eyes
To hold her cold hand
It was an ancient rite
Torn from me
And now
And now
I feel so hollow
Having been robbed
Of The Final Tending
There is some
essential
Ancestral
Piece of closure
That’s missing.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest