A Child's View of Death

A Child’s View of Death People say now that Grandpa was thin But he had plump cheeks; cancer had set in Each Sunday penny candy in my hand he’d place And with rugged hands he’d embrace my face To an impetuous toddler, his cigars smelled foul But I don’t remember him ever sporting a scowl On the way to mass my hand he’d squeeze And no one ever mentioned his disease But I’ll not forget the way mama cried When she hugged me and said Grandpa had died Though yellow tulips bloomed outside I entered that parlor where emotions ran high Grandpa looked peaceful, like he was asleep I walked softly toward him, not making a peep Where was that smile I’d come to expect Not one movement could I detect It can cause harm taking preschoolers to funerals Death viewings can be the most frightening rituals Fear lingered for months as I dreamt of him Lying in a coffin, his skin cold and face grim Children should remember those who have passed Alive and happy, the way they’d seen them last A fear of death plagued me for many years I couldn’t accept that good people disappear From our lives, to be buried in the ground In thoughts of this loss, my spirits drowned It wasn’t till later I realized the eternal life of souls And that in both forms of life, we each have our roles Be sure to tell little ones of God’s special home And how our deceased loved ones sit by His throne In coming to terms with this revelation I learned to see death as a new life’s creation *For Lay's "Darkest Childhood Memory" Challenge