Sitting by your bedside
Every night and everyday,
I felt so sorry for you
All I could do was pray.
I prayed for peace to come to you
So no more suffering you would feel,
I stroked your forehead tenderly
I knew you wouldn't heal.
I told you that I loved you
It seemed so very odd,
How could I love someone like you
No answer did I get from God.
So many tears I shed that day
I knew the end was near,
I told you it would be alright
As I whispered in your ear.
I never heard I'm sorry
And now it is too late,
Maybe that would have helped me
All those years, how I did wait.
Watching you become a "shell" of a man
It broke my heart to see,
Maybe this was your punishment
Of what you did to me.
In pallative care we kept you
But I felt guilty deep inside,
I felt like I did murder you
Even today I've sat and cried.
I whispered to you to let go
Be free from all your pain,
I asked if you were sorry
But there just was no refrain.
Staring at the ceiling
I wondered what you did see,
Memories coming from the past
Of what you did to me?
You passed away, no more pain
I watched you as you died,
I cried for you, you were my dad
But our secrets we did hide.
So many secrets between us
That were sealed away with time,
But I will somehow release them
Now that I'm in my Prime.
I kept you on a pedestal
Which was not suppose to be,
But we had some really good times
And my heart it did agree.
But the shadows from the past still come
They overtake the good,
My nightmares see your presence still
In front of my "little" self you stood.
Three years ago you passed away
I feel guilty for not visiting your grave,
But I just can't bring myself to go
That little girl in me is not brave.
Just maybe one day I might forget
The past that still clings to me,
And help that sombre little girl
So we both can be set free.
written by Mary Graziano
I started writing this poem when I stayed at my dad's bedside all night long for 3 weeks before he died. Everyone in my family told me to go home and rest, that he didn't know I was there. But there was something deep inside of me that wanted me to stay each night, sleeping in a chair for short periods, then checking on my dad. I felt so guilty for putting him into Palliative Care hearing him whisper "I'm hungry" and the nurse coming to give him a higher dose of morphine so he wouldn't feel the hunger pains. I really did and still to this day feel like a murderer. I haven't been able to visit his grave as I said in the last lines of my poem, I don't know why, I don't know if I'm afraid to, that too many memories will flood back to me, I just don't know...
Today, I finished this poem.