Like a handless clock with numbers, an infinite of time…
Missing my Nana so much, words cannot express. Even though it has been 12 years since her passing, I have never truly grieved over this. Thoughts race through my mind, what could I have done differently? Why did I have to yell at her the night before she died? Did stress from my father’s trial induce her bad health and in the end kill her? These questions are what keeps me up at night. Talked today in depth with my supportive peers, after playing Ben Harper song, Waiting on an Angel. I consider myself a pretty deep individual. I tend to be very interpretative when it comes to music and lyrics. This song makes me believe, as I was on the way out of life, My Nana/Angel watched out for me and kept me alive. Alive for a reason I guess. Still searching for that answer. A while back I wrote a poem called “That Night” which is in loving memory of my Nana. Here it goes, just a little piece of my writing from 12 years ago:
It was not supposed to happen that morn
Heaven captured her soul
She was soon starting to conform
To conform into the most beautiful Angel
If only one more day she could have stayed
As the life was leaving her and Holy Spirit was taken over.