My grandfather committed suicide,
He was too unhappy to confide,
He dosed himself with arsenic to die:
He was found in his truck by the roadside.
My mother remembered the day he died,
Recalling that sad day without pride,
Grandmother had thought something was wrong,
She thought poor Henry had something to hide.
Family tears had to be quickly dried,
Grandmother was now her girls' sole guide,
She was a very capable woman,
But her courage had been most sorely tried.
My mother was soon to become a bride,
Happy to be by my father's side,
While Grandfather's death passed into legend,
Carried down on the historical tide.
Copyright © Beth Evans | Year Posted 2020
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