"Donde Estas, Pop?"
http://www.lulu.com/content/223020
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
On Saturday
your mom died
and she was 96 years old
you were there
every day of that last month
as her sweet little
Mexican heart
faded away
I called you that night
and we only spoke
for a minute and a half
“Pop,
I’m sorry about Grandma Trini”
“That’s alright, mijo,
she was pretty old and
now she’s out of pain”
“yeah, I know, but still…
she’s in a better place now”
“yeah”
a long, heavy pause
“well, I’ll let you go for now,
Pop,
but I’ll talk to you later
this week”
“ok, mijo,
I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and thought
you’re taking this better
than when Grandpa died
years ago
which was the only time
I ever saw you cry
I knew it weighed heavy on you
still you went ahead and
prepared for her funeral
and you readied the house
for the family you knew
would be calling
in the coming days.
That Monday
you came in from mowing
the front yard
took a shower
and sat at the kitchen table
eating a microwave corn dog
and mom told me
you said
“you know, Pat,
I’m not the old horse I used to be.”
She rubbed Icy Hot on your
aching shoulder
and after that you both went to
the bedroom
to rest and watch the 4 o’clock news.
It had been a rough couple of days.
You stretched out on the floor
and she was reading something
when something caught her eye
you weren’t moving
you were still
and when she turned you over
you were already blue.
That was eight years ago.
I look in the mirror
and see your graying temples
and my words are tripping like yours did
and your sighs have become my sighs.
“Donde Estas, Pop?”
I know you’re inside me
because you come out
in my words and deeds
but I still miss you
and I wish you were here
right now
so I could read this to you.
Why buy the cow,when you can get the milk for free? Because I'm not a cow, and I'm selling a book!
your mom died
and she was 96 years old
you were there
every day of that last month
as her sweet little
Mexican heart
faded away
I called you that night
and we only spoke
for a minute and a half
“Pop,
I’m sorry about Grandma Trini”
“That’s alright, mijo,
she was pretty old and
now she’s out of pain”
“yeah, I know, but still…
she’s in a better place now”
“yeah”
a long, heavy pause
“well, I’ll let you go for now,
Pop,
but I’ll talk to you later
this week”
“ok, mijo,
I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and thought
you’re taking this better
than when Grandpa died
years ago
which was the only time
I ever saw you cry
I knew it weighed heavy on you
still you went ahead and
prepared for her funeral
and you readied the house
for the family you knew
would be calling
in the coming days.
That Monday
you came in from mowing
the front yard
took a shower
and sat at the kitchen table
eating a microwave corn dog
and mom told me
you said
“you know, Pat,
I’m not the old horse I used to be.”
She rubbed Icy Hot on your
aching shoulder
and after that you both went to
the bedroom
to rest and watch the 4 o’clock news.
It had been a rough couple of days.
You stretched out on the floor
and she was reading something
when something caught her eye
you weren’t moving
you were still
and when she turned you over
you were already blue.
That was eight years ago.
I look in the mirror
and see your graying temples
and my words are tripping like yours did
and your sighs have become my sighs.
“Donde Estas, Pop?”
I know you’re inside me
because you come out
in my words and deeds
but I still miss you
and I wish you were here
right now
so I could read this to you.
Why buy the cow,when you can get the milk for free? Because I'm not a cow, and I'm selling a book!
Thanks, and, btw you have better than my talent - you have your own talent! USE IT KID! -Mosky
