Snap Shot

I remember sitting outside my grandfather's hospital room.
As he lay dying.

Too afraid to be in the room for long
I hugged him and said "I love you"
and my father, perhaps, realizing
it was too much for a seven-year-old
or recognizing my wide-eyed panic
excused me into the hall.

I knew he was sick
and the illness grave
but I did not believe it possible that he could die,
did not think death itself was real
more a construct of fiction
displayed in Bambi and Princess Bride
not in life.
In fact I was convinced
of his recovery,
the vaulted figure of my grandfather
could not die
because I loved him.

And so I sat
alone and maybe bored
waiting for the trip to Baskin Robbins my father had promised.