Poetry

Poem: Crazy Like Grandpa

 

He was senile, had dementia as my Aunt called it,

didn’t know my name or who was president.

Yet, he battled each day, strong as a warrior

up until that moment he was forced to let go.

He couldn’t wave his cane or cause pestilence anymore.

He broke his hip, rode sidesaddle to the hospital

and we never heard him call us names again.

I told my Grandpa before being lowered into the grave:

“When I grow up, I’m going to be a crazy sonovabitch just like you.”

©️mft

Freelance writer, poet, yogi and photographer from Santa Barbara, California. I write and take pictures about a variety of topics, from my early childhood in Philadelphia, to my years as a family therapist, and finally to my soul-searching years in California. The things that move me may have a humorous or serious content or both. Either way, I hope my poetry, pictures and stories resonate with you.

2 comments on “Poem: Crazy Like Grandpa

  1. Theresa Ruiz

    We have all had relatives like this. I remember my “Grandpa” Paul or “Polo” as he was called. You never approached him directly because he spoke Spanish. Grandma would always ask us to say “hello” to him nonetheless. And I would out of respect for her. Thank you for bringing up the happy memory of pleasing her.

  2. I hope Grandpa Polo caused a good ruckus!

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