The Final Farewell

***If I make mistakes, let me know. I am not in my right mind at this particular moment, and am merely writing what I feel as I feel it. As you read, you should understand why.***
_
Your feeble hands, so white and cracked,
will never pull a brush through my hair.
Your nails, like an eagle's talons,
will never shine with that fresh coat of pink.
Your tender eyes, clear and pure like a summer sky,
will never look upon my face and twinkle.
Your smile, perfect and white as untouched snow,
will never flash when I enter the room.
Your voice, soft as a celtic lullaby,
will never utter a comforting word.
Your ears, though weak as they are,
will never hear my physical cries.
_
The golds and silvers of ages past
will never adorn your pearlescent skin.
The gems and flowers that surround you
will never be more than bittersweet reminders.
The great canopy bed, covered with your mother's things,
will be empty and bland forevermore.
The rocking chair, blue and soft,
will never rock me to sleep, to and fro.
The pictures that hang upon your walls
will be empty echoes of your life.
The bells, all one hundred sixty,
will never ring beneath your fingers.
_
All these things are around me now,
but even I know the truth.
No worldy thing, near or far,
will ever amount to the real you.
And life will go on, as it always does,
even though you are no longer here,
and I will live, as you would have begged,
as if you still existed.
It will be hard, as I know it will be,
but I can live in peace,
knowing you loved me.
Though you are gone, forevermore,
I know you will be with me in my heart.
_
And so, farewell, until we meet again.
Do not wait for me before the Pearly Gates.
Enter ahead of me, oh dearest one,
and meet your father, mother, and brother,
as I know you have longed to do.
I will be here, thinking of you,
and clinging to the happy memories,
reminding myself of all the good times,
forgetting all the bad ones.
But I will not forget when I held your hand,
as you lay comatose, shattered and broken,
and you gave my hand a squeeze.
This is not goodbye - not in a million years.
This is only farewell, my dearest grandmother.