She and I would hunt bears in the forest,

a forest that went by the name of North Pointe Woods,

and we’d catch them every single time.

I guess you could say we were just that good.

That was before her big change of scenery,

and the next time I saw her was in a field full of rabbits.

So social, so alive, so loving she stayed.

If only her body could break its deadly habits.

As I entered the rabbit room for the very first time,

expectations were mild and a hug was all I wished to give her.

But she, of us all, was actually the pillar,

everyone else’s emotions flowing like the streams of ten rivers.

She, of us all, carried the conversation,

recalling five decades past, her mind no quivers.

She, of us all, seemed the healthiest while ill,

laughing, smiling, her entire figure no shivers.

She had asked for a copy of “Me,”

so I traveled down the hall and stopped at the front desk printer.

I should’ve known better. “I would love if this were stapled.”

I made the trip back and jabbed in the pages a small metal sliver.

When the talk dialed down, we procrastinated the farewell.

Was this the final goodbye? I know she was thinking it too.

In a way, it was, as it was the last time I saw her

still with a strong grip before her health turned askew.

I’ll never forget, the last time she looked me in the eyes

with her mind still awake, she spoke powers like it was her preplanned cue.

“Goodbye Roderick, the love of my life. You have a limitless future.”

Just as limitless as the height of these waterfalls dripping down my face.

The next time I visited the rabbit room, her personality had been

rolled up,

placed in a beer bottle,

and sent out to sea.

She never forgot my name, never lost her mind,

but she was tired, even weak, everyone could see.

I had gotten lucky once,

and it was selfish of me to be hopeful again.

Maybe this wasn’t truly goodbye, either,

and she’ll hang on for a few more days in this rabbit den.

The last words she said to me

echoed like screaming alarms.

They were just…so…inconsiderate.

They were never going be fulfilled.

“Have a great day today.”

How am I supposed to have a “great day today”

when I see Dad giving Mom a comforting embrace,

when they tell me the news,

that your sparkler has burnt down to its tip?

Each colorful explosion punches my gut.

Do these people not realize this time is so colorless?

Each boom breaks down a different piece of my heart,

on beat with the rapid crumbling of any positivity I had left.

She should’ve been here.

We could’ve all been on a boat ride,

sunbathing next to the pool,

or sitting at one big table eating pulled pork sandwiches.

I know everyone wishes that were the case,

but she just couldn’t hang on any longer.

And that fact wrecks the whole family,

puts everyone into a state of sadness,

because the “she” in this scenario was my

Great Grandma A.

After thinking, she probably loved going with the fireworks.

The sparkling holiday might have carried her to a state of peace.

Or maybe it was the great care

that the people around her showed before the battle had ceased.

I think she knew she was loved,

and that none of us would forget the great memories we shared with her.

Like how she and I would hunt bears in the forest,

and I still pick up my fly swatter every now and then.

Keep the people you’ve loved close,

it’s all you can do to relive those euphoric moments again and again.