The closer it comes, the sadness creeps in, creeps in slowly, and I cannot quite grasp the sadness. It remains there deep, deep in the tiny breaks of my heart. I cannot shake it; it holds tight, I cannot shake it. It’s right around the bend now and I try so hard to hold back, hold back the tears that beg to wash down my face. The 12th, the 12th of February my heart aches and breaks apart once more. I want another celebration not this loneliness. Surrounded by many, but standing alone, they cannot see my sorrow; they cannot see my heart breaking again, scars of memory, scars of loss. The 17th will come as well, birth and death wrapped so tightly together. I am alone, surrounded by many, humanity blind to my heartache. I miss you, I love you. Why did we never hug or say those words? How can I miss you so much then? You made me want to scream, to cry, but I stood and smiled on the 12th and pretended on the 17th. You could have stayed here a little longer, my God you waited so long to leave, how could you leave so soon and stay so long? A year ago celebration, but death too close. Death too close to sing in celebration of your life, because I saw death creeping up, creeping in. I could see it, I could feel it. We came so far, our celebration stolen by death creeping up, creeping in. I didn’t have enough time to say I love you. I’ve had too long to say I miss you Grandma.