Grandparents die.
It’s what they do.
Though it may be sad
it is not
and so somehow it does not
seem to count.

Parents … parents should be immortal.
Immutable, unshakable, eternal anchors;
an origin and homecoming
that never, ever, fades.
When they die
it seems like a trick;
as though they conspired with Life
and cheated for no reason.
Changed the rules;
dealt from the bottom of the pack.
Stole the sweets
from a bewildered, uncomprehending child
now stood,
momentarily, perpetually, frozen
waiting for the world to wind back
to the way it should be.

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