a poem for my grandpa

TOWERS

My grandpa

used to build towers

in the living room.

Stacking the bricks

on top of each other,

I’d implore him

to make it go higher

and higher.

My brother said

he cheated,

because the tower

was on a table;

all that mattered to me

was that it touched

the ceiling.

me and my grandpa, with one of his towers, circa 1990

My grandpa died a few days ago. He was 86. He died after a short illness, and didn't suffer in his dying days. In fact, he said it was the happiest he had ever been, knowing he was going to die having achieved all he had ever wanted - to see his large family grow and flourish. He was a wonderful man, and I will miss him immensely.