She isn't there anymore.

Not as much as before anyway.

As if pieces of her spirit broke off
and fell into the void.

Her eyes,
once sharp,
now carry a disordered dullness.

Her once beautiful ethnic fashion choices
now consist of randomly chosen attire.

Her tidy cleanliness has evaporated,
leaving behind cluttered spaces in her wake.

Open doors,
misplaced items,
forgotten medication,
warped understandings.

Leaving behind a shadow,
a remnant of the woman I used to know,
inhabiting a husk of a body,
which has began to falter.

I look into the face of my wonderful Grandma,
but see vacancy in her gaze.

It saddens me.


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