I'M Sorry Tio

On the first day of knowing, I chose to ignore the heart-shattering statement. I went to school, Like normal. If normal even is a thing. I hung out with friends, I came home, I ate dinner, They brought it up, I ignored it, I went to bed, And I wept. I did the same for the second day, And the third, And the fourth. It's now the thirtieth day. They're planning Thanksgiving, And I don't want to go. It's only my fifteenth Thanksgiving, But it's his last. This is his last Thanksgiving. The last time he'll see the family together, Until the day of grief comes. His last everything. I know it's the last time, But I can't see him like this. I know he didn't give up his fight. I know the cancer finally won, But he did not lose. He fought hard, For a very long time. But I can't see him, I can't, So I weep. I know if I don't go, When that dreadful, Heart-wrenching, Soul ripping, Day comes, I cannot go. Not because others do not want me there, But because my mind does not want me there. My mind knows, That I do not deserve to be there, I do not deserve to weep over his death, I did not cherish my time with him, But simply wept as the time came. I feel death's cold presence fill the room once again, As they take another person from me, And a piece of my soul each time. I'm starting to get used to death's presence, More than the living. I know on Dia De Los Muertos, When I go to visit them all, I will avoid him, Not able to look at his clean fresh stone, Or his final gentle grassy bed. I'm sorry Tio. Perdóname por favor.