eating mud pies made of real mud.

i'll never forget the day i came home to find my best friend
gone forever, awaiting me within the fluffy white clouds.

my heart is lined in black, always reliving that day
remembering the way it felt to hear those words
"grandpa slim died this morning."

everything went white, and as i slid down the wall
tears in my eyes, i saw his face in my mind
and remembered the times we shared together
eating the "mud pies" that were real mud
(yes, he really ate them.)
calling grampoo to come rescue me from mom
just because she was making me clean my room.

on the way to the heart hospital, in the car
the radio was on and ever so softly
puff daddy was singing "i'll be missin you"
and the tears streamed down my face quicker than before
listening to that song in such an ironic situation.

the drive seemed like it took a lifetime
and walking into the heart hospital
it smelled like sadness and pain filled the air.
the doctors escorted us back to the room
and my family walked in to view my grandpa
the tubes were still in his throat
and he looked like he was resting, coma-like state
i stated for a few seconds and turned to walk away.

in the hallway, walking back towards the waiting room,
a lady walked up and asked if she could pray for someone
i looked at her with pain streaming out of my eyes
and quietly said "no" as i walked on by.
(i wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.)

official cause of death: overdose.

july 4, 2001 was the worst day in my life
and for the rest of my life, i can't enjoy fireworks
the parties that happen everywhere on that day
or celebrate the independence of america.

every year, i say, "this is the year i will visit him"
and i never go, i never build up the courage to drive
the simple 45 minutes to the place we spread his ashes.
i drink the pain away instead.

he promised to walk me down the aisle when i got married
he promised to be there to hold his first great grandchild
i guess promises are, afterall, meant to be broken.

they say time heals all wounds, time has failed to heal mine.






** Buster "Slim" Brown died on July 4, 2001. Karen Faye Cofield (grandma) died on December 13, 2007 after years of mourning my grandpa. Ironically, both of my grandparents were drug addicts when they were younger. My Aunt always said that my grandma would live only long enough to see every person she got high with die, and only then could she join them in heaven. how ironic is it that it happened just as she said it would? although, in all respects, drug addicts are frowned down upon, my grandparents were the most giving, loving people in the world, and i would give anything to have them back again.

I love you and miss you both so much. everyday is a constant struggle to keep myself together and i can't wait until the day that you can hold me in your arms again, call me a heffer (grandma) and tell me that everything is going to be okay.