there's always a goodbye

there's always a goodbye

Great-Grandma E died in a nursing home
two years prior.

Out of town, where vibrant flowers
edged the home she would never leave.

Back at my school dorm, where I heard the news
I remember my eyes welling with faraway tears.

Faraway, but not foreign
I was all too familiar with sporadic leaking.

It was morning when I got the call
the sun was peeking from under closed blinds.

Resting its warmth on the edge of my jaw
as if to reassure me it reached out to her too.

In her final moments, I wondered
did she dissolve into the unknown, knowing?

Was she present when she left
did she visit me, lying in my bed?

Was she the sun that morning,
touching my cheek as her goodbye?