What My Heart Cannot Get: Apology

They say sorry

you passed slumbering

under night covering.

I keep saying, “it’s okay.”

my eyes spurting salt

thinking my body may be made up

100 percent, instead of 95 water.

I can hear you, “dry those tears,

missy” but you aren’t looking behind

from the passenger seat, to me,

your highly sensitive granddaughter,

knowing you’ll watch over me, listen,

but I won’t be able to call anymore,

hear your excitement to pull out

your Bible to help me understand

God’s love for me. Tonight, a woman

gave me pork chops exactly how

you made them. I thought through

my drops, they taste good cold.

I must have made them bitter.

Author’s Note: My grandma passed away yesterday. She’s taught me more about Jesus than I can put it into words right now. She’s the first person I’ve been close to, that I’ve lost. I love you, Grandma. Thank you for loving me exactly as I know Jesus is loving you in Heaven right now.

5 thoughts on “What My Heart Cannot Get: Apology

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