trashcans

a week ago today, i saw my grandfather for the first time after he passed away. for a week i forgot that places outside of the funeral home, my home, my grandmother's home, the church, and the memorial grounds existed. now i'm back at school, feeling something. i don't know what. hurt, maybe. i can't get it through my head that i'm not going to see this person again. i feel like everything is wrong right now. i'm glad he isn't suffering anymore, but still. i wish there was a way that things would have turned out differently, better.

when i think about the funeral, i can't help but hear my grandma's crying. her screaming or wailing. it kills me. the night before the funeral she came into my room, and told me not to cry because he's in a better place. she told me how he died and said that if i had seen him i would have understood. she told me she was scared of being alone in the house because she knew all she would do was think about him.

he raised me, and he was one of my best friends. we had an eggplant garden that i loved dearly - maybe more in memory. in it's place now, are bricks laid down for a path and two trashcans, one for recycling.