A poem by my grandfather

On Monday my paternal grandfather, aged 91, went to palliative care. He's not been well for a few months now, going in and out of hospital with various illnesses. My Mum called me to tell me these may be his last days. As I write this, he is comfortable, free from pain, and the nurses tell me he is alert and doing well despite being incoherent. Those terms, comfortable, free from pain and palliative care, are daunting. They are the terms to describe the end of days. It feels strange to literally take each day at a time.

If he was well enough, he'd be attending an ANZAC Day ceremony today. He and my grandmother served in the Second World War. Years ago we used to march in the same ANZAC Day parade in my home town. He'd be marching with the war veterans and I'd march with the Brownies or my school.

In all honesty, my grandfather and I aren't close. He gave me a book of his poems, and I have read some of them in the past day or so. He's a great writer. I wanted to share one of his poems here. Maybe I'll share more one day.

Life is wonderful

Yesterday's gone
into history now,
and if all my horoscopes
sand money was about
then Fortune was joking,
because if Yesterday
was living, then
Yesterday was terrible.
But Today is different,
Today is a promise
of what is going
to happen to me today
and hasn't happened yet.

All the while while I am
living today,
I will be thinking:
there is Life,
there is a promise,
and there is Hope,
and today
could be wonderful.

-
I know that he will get good care in the hospital. He's had a very long life, and I hope this time for him is peaceful. Through reading his poetry, I've discovered a man I've never known.