7:53 A.M.
I realized
That death doesn’t affect me anymore.
Not young death
Child
Teen
Twenty-something year old
Those do.
But real death.
The kind of real where you think to yourself
I knew them.
My mother stood in my doorway
Teary eyed
Sniffling
I heard the words
Your grandfather died last night
But didn’t shed a tear
Or feel sad.
Or feel.
Instead
I looked at my clock
Contemplated going back to sleep.
Now
Thinking of her
Who stood in my doorway
Saddened by the death
Of a man who had
Beaten
Tormented
Betrayed
His wife and children.
Then moved on
Remarried
Walked his daughter down the aisle
Baptized his granddaughter
And was loved.
And forgiven.
I thought of her tears.
Should that be me?