Who leaves behind the teary-eyed,
Where we just watch, as passerby,
Her journey to the Other Side.
Who decides, who lives to cry?
To comb through photos, to stand in line.
To be greeted by family and friends,
Who know what it’s like to learn to live again.
What does it mean, to live, then die?
To go, not gently, into that good night.
When we last spoke, I held back tears,
And she told me, “I’ll always be here”.
What does it mean, to live so bright?
To touch so many, to change our lives.
Perhaps life is not measured up to its close,
But by the stories yet to be told.
So the challenge now is to live for her.
To give her more time on this precious Earth.
For one is only, truly gone,
When no one is left to sing their song.
So we carry her with us in the time to come.
We show her joy, we show her love.
She is with us now, she sits in these seats,
For we are her new heartbeat.
Written in loving memory of my grandmother, Menghi.