The faces of the family were like dark shrouds.
The husband,
Father,
Grandpa,
Lay in the coffin in the front of the room.
His youngest grandchild paced the room veering away from-
His wife,
Wrinkled from age,
Filled with a disease that made her lose a part of herself.
Who will never be able to recognize that her husband,
Her anchor,
Is dead in the coffin.

The grandchild slouched in the backseat of the van,
Watching the hills roll by,
She rode closer to where her grandfather’s gravesite.
The rest of the family in the van
Discussed what was going to happen to the grandmother.
In the grandchild’s daze,
The conversation slipped past like
The hills outside the window.

The youngest grandchild watched the grandmother move into her brothers’ room.
She watched her grandmother pace,
Hum,
Stare out the window,
Or closepin the curtains shut every night.
And every time she saw her,
Acid would burn her mouth.

The leaves fell off the trees,
Life was withering,
Fading away.
Summer was over.
With life,
The grandchild’s control of her temper,
Faded away too.

The grandmother in her haze,
Was
And Is,
A tree stuck in between
An awake stasis
And hibernation.
Her leaves,
Dead,
But the leaves won’t fall.

Fists clenched,
Shoulders hunched,
The grandmother’s big,
Brown eyes wide
Glared at her grandchild,
The one she forgot,
Ready to punch her.

The grandchild,
Ready for blood.
And the door slammed shut behind the grandchild,
As she walked away.

The wind was getting stronger,
Moving over
The Empty woods.
With the wind,
The grandchild travels across the yard,
Staying with the Friend.
Sleep,
Eat,
The only reasons she would come home.

With the coming of the dark clouds,
The wife moved into a nursing home.

With the last glimpse of sunshine,
The grandchild went back to being in the house for more than-
Eating and Sleeping.
The forgotten,
Youngest grandchild has avoided her grandma to this day.
To this day,
The wife,
Mother,
Grandmother,
Sits and stares.
Never remembering the fight,
Her grandchildren,
Or her husband’s death.
“Where’s Bob?”
She sits there asking her daughter.
“Where’s my anchor?”