F.G.

Having experienced all life’s
ups and downs, he accepted it

with grace. Think death.
Think life. Months, weeks,

days, hours. Two sides
of a matter. The numbers

on the screen were flickering-
blood pressure, heart rate,

respiration rate, oxygen level.
The body had fought back

all pains and illnesses until
all sufferings were gone.

Who is able to comprehend
the loss? Only tears and grief

will be lingering in the air,
contained in the hand-

crafted wooden jewelry box,
hovering over the grape vine,

mixed in the home-made
chicken parmesan years after

he’s gone to heaven
rejoice and be glad.

R.I.P, F.G.

4 thoughts on “F.G.

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