You asked me why I was broken
I asked you why you were not
You asked me where the scars came from
I asked you why you needed to know
You asked me if I was pure
I asked you if it was a sin not to be
You asked me why I was crying
I asked you if reality ever hurt you
You asked me why I wouldn't answer
I asked you why should I
You asked me if I loved you
I asked you for the meaning of love
You asked me why I wasn't cooperative
I asked you why didn't you just fade away like everything else does...

              It's hard to recall the events that lead to this day. All the hell and hardships weathered to meet this point in the crossroads. Where I no longer see your guiding hand reaching out to help me. I admit freely that we were never close; not like some other families or siblings I have for that matter. But there are moments in my mind that you're drilled in forever. Days and events I can never get rid of, nor would I dream of it. They're fashioned in me, deep into my spirit and soul.
              You're probably happy where you're going. I'm sure that your Alzheimer's no longer affects your memory in heaven. God will surely enclose you in his warm embrace filled with light and love. You always had a deep belief in him. It ran so deep that at times others would get agitated with your actions and words. But that's family, right? I mean we can't all like each other all the time. It's unheard of. It's unnatural.
              I recall well the days we'd take either fond or not of you. When my mom would speak of how you were once a demon on wheels, hell bent on getting to the sinners and judging others. You once had a sharp snap, venom in your voice I never knew. All I ever saw was a little old lady who wanted her grandchildren to go to church and be little outstanding citizens just like her.
              Memorandum was always around your house. Little knickknacks and dillydallies laid about where ever there may be space. You had all those little donation plagues from all the help you served in your community. I recall all the coloring books you handed me as a child, all the funnies papers you saved when I came over for long periods of time and got bored.
              There were Christmas's spent at your house. As a child, I was too stupid, naïve and selfish to care about anybody or anything other than myself. The toys were always the priority. When I came across clothes, I gave a half-hearted faked 'thank you' to you and moved on to the next shiny paper wrapped box as quickly as I could.
              Splendid dinners were held where we said prayer. I never knew the words and never claimed to. This was always odd to me, because at home I never said prayer. We ate in our separate places and had our own separate sections to do whatever. But your house was different. We gathered around and shared stories and gossip. Life was easily found in the small dinner space.
              On a faithful day I left my Gameboy color with my old Pokémon game at your house. Again, the selfish child inside me whined and cried, demanding we return and retrieve my precious game. After my mother's many denials and threats on groundation, we finally managed to go over to get my game before shopping. You had just showered and looked my vibrant and youthful then I'd ever seen you. Happily, you handed over my Gameboy as well as an undeserved cookie. But I took it with glee and skipped away without a care.
              Your house always had that perfume-smell. As a child, I found it peculiar if not 'old'. As I matured the smell became homey. Something of your own that could not be taken. It brought me back to me childhood, to cooking with my aunts at your place while you watched and laughed.
              There is a faithful Easter day I remember. Where I hunted and hunted like it was nobody's business. When I ran to show you and mom, I fell on your brick patio. I cried and bawled as the skin on my knee and shins split and bleed. My hands were red and bloody too. But you rushed to my aid, comforting my hysteria and crying sobs of pain. You nurtured me even when I refused; even when I said all I wanted to do was go home, you stuck by my side.
              If given the chance, I can spot out where everything was in your house. From where the China Cabinet sat to the knicks and scratches on the walls. You had all those empty bedrooms that were only filled on special holidays. You were alone.
              Tales were spun of when Grandpa was alive. When you had that venom tipped tongue. But you were deep in love, the two of you. Grandpa was your anchor and harbor. The man you loved whom I never met. I'm sure he's happy to see you in Heaven. Or Nirvana. Or wherever it is that you go when you pass away.
              I remember when you began to slip away. When you misplaced things or slipped on dates and times. We began to worry for your safety; especially on the day dad found out that you left the stove running. So we made the difficult decision to place you in a nursing home. You were stripped of independence and fought everywhere all the time that you saw your car and wanted to go home (since my father took your car away when you were placed in the nursing home).
              Moving your stuff was hard. Seeing everything being repainted and resold even harder. When I pass by your house up the street now, it doesn't even look like your house anymore. The light that I used to see in the window isn't the same glow. It's harsh and unfamiliar now. I don't recognize it. The rosebushes' are gone and they tore down the shed grandpa is said to have built in the backyard. I wonder if they destroyed your beautiful garden as well.
              I regret not sticking by you. When fear and pity overcame me that I didn't want to see you in that state anymore. You progressively got worse until we transferred you to another nursing home that offered more personal help. Again, I refused to help and to care. I didn't bother with the antics of moving as I sat on my butt and enjoyed the flat screen television we recently got from you.
              But everything only went downhill from here. You got to the point that you not only didn't recognize your family (thinking my dad was your brother or that your daughter was your granddaughter and such), but you did unspeakable and downright embarrassing things (as dad puts it). You stripped naked in public and tried running away from the nursing home. There were days you would seem to almost remember but would then just walk away, forgetting and wanting to sleep. We all worried, knowing that things were growing alarmingly and conceringly worse.
              As two-thousand-ten dragged on, things got somehow even worse. You broke your fingers and your wrist. Then, in late September, you took a fatal fall that injured your wrist, ankle, and hip. Although one hip had previously been replaced, the doctors said it would be a waste of time to do anything to strenuous now. So they bolted up your hip and got you special nurses to keep you under control.
              It still grew continuously worse. The nurses and doctors saw you going mad under their care. Throwing fits of rage and tearing off your clothes once more. You had to be secured to the bed and they couldn't get you to keep food or medication down. Dad made the tough decision to say 'no' to put a feeding tube in you as your legal caretaker. He says he regrets it and that he killed his own mother, but we don't blame him. He just didn't want you to suffer any longer.
              You got worse still. The progressive rate sharply inclining. We began seeing dad crying daily, unclear if he did the right thing and upset to see you in so much pain. The dosage on your IV was upped so you wouldn't be in any more pain when the time came. When you were fed, the food came back up just as quickly. You complained of numbness and being cold. The doctors began speculating time. A week. That's all they claimed you had left. At most.
              That week didn't last. Time vanished. You hung on though, at the end. They said you would probably die two days before you did. You were always an amazingly strong person. Having the willpower I could only dream of. And God knows I'll miss and remember you. I wasn't the best granddaughter by far, and I wish I could have gone back and kissed you on the cheek and let you know that everything's going to be okay, that we all love and care about you. That God was going to be there for you.
              But I can't go back and I most certainly can not fix it. What's done has been done. You've moved on already, I'm sure. I hope Heaven is proving to be everything you've dreamed of. I know we'll all miss you, and I'm sure the heartache will surface at times and threaten to drown me. But I'll always remember the good times we had and smile, knowing that you were always there helping me, loving me, and guiding me. That you cared about the family's well-being and only wanted to help do what's right.
              You're my inspiration and I hope to one day be as kindhearted as you. That I can be strong and can help teach others with my wisdom. That I can grow old and appreciate life in ways that others find unfathomable. And I pray for you, that you're happy wherever you are in the afterlife, being with your beloved husband once more, and watching down on all of us, smiling happily.

                                Eyes
               the color of the morning sky
                          soft and light
                       capturing sun rays
              dancing ocean water around
                     rain water sparkling
                   falling from gray clouds
                     silver mercury gleams
         rainbows of color constantly changing
               the golden brown butterscotch
                  surrounding a black abyss
           add another shard of sapphire blue
                         dash of dull iron
               specks and pinches of crystal
            a miraculous home for imagination