Angry Granddaughter

Of COURSE he looks terrible.

Oh, look how traumatized you are, you've sat here for a whole 20 minutes.

You didn't have to get next to no sleep last night because you and your mother
and your boyfriend were up all night fighting the man to get into bed, because
the toxins in his blood are making him crazy.

You aren't watching your mother cry as the nurses tell you that probability dictates
that he has days left.

You aren't the one sobbing in the backyard because it's the only place you can go
to be alone, since he's been given your bedroom to die in.

You aren't the one being used as a crutch by your mother,
being bitched at by your father,
and watching your sister pretend nothing's happening,
because she doesn't deal with "sick people".

You get to come and go at your leisure,
while we have death oozing from every surface in our home.

Shouldn't you care as much as you pretend?
Shouldn't you at least try to help us cope?
Shouldn't you be trying at all?

Being in your thoughts and prayers means NOTHING to me-- only that you'd rather think
about it than do anything at all.

This is hard enough without you reminding me that I have to watch it so much more.
That I should be that much stronger,
that I should care so much more
and do so much more to help
to make up for you lousy fools.

You can't lean on a broken crutch.