Grandpa’s Tears

Such a surreal moment

The blood has dried

The smell of gunpowder gone

But his soul lingers in the air

And still, we wait for his voice

Calling out Elijah, I’m home.

I'm the ancient grandpa

Only able to listen, not much more

My own life and my limitations

Brought in clear focus.

No way to take away my daughter’s pain

Or to fill the empty bottle his father left

On the nightstand next to his crib.

No way to tell the story

And change the ending

After the click of the chamber

Before the blast goes viral

And the new reality

Takes the oxygen from the room.

Tomorrow and the day after

And the day after that

The sun will rise and fall

And Elijah’s dad will not return

And take his midnight shift

Of changing diapers and feeding formula

And wiping burps from his own shoulders

Neth baby’s mouth.

How much did the Medicaid blunder

The one that cut off his Lexapro

Shift the balance of control

As he withdrew one week on

How much rests because he saw no future

Without the baby’s mom not wanting to be his wife

And mate forevermore

Just parents together sharing the load

Nothing more, nothing more, nothing more,

Is all he heard.

Not the traditional family

He never had.

Was being sober ten months to the day

Not enough to hold the prize

The prize of a family sitting around the table

Each loving and caring

As they told the tales of the day?

How much did the $4k lien

Against an empty bank account

And bank overdraft fees piling up

Piling up the hopelessness

Put weight on the trigger

As his two friends and baby’s mother

Sitting in the other room

Discussing the mess he had made

Not seal the deal?

Did the world not see

That he got one thing right

When every night

He held his son

Until sleep came and he lay him down?

Did they not see him waiting there

Beside the crib at morning's light

As the sunbeams fell

On the carpet now red?

Grandpa Roe

March 2022.