A memory popped up and so did this poem:
I sat on the floor next to my grandfather
as he lay twitching and shaking from the
brain bleed that would quickly
take his life just moments later.
All that I’d learned about love and life
seemed to fan out before my 14-year-old eyes
as I watched him die, wanting to do something.
Terrified that I didn’t know what.
Then he was gone.
I was certain the world would
pause or salute or shed a tear.
But nothing slowed;