Worn Out Rags Poem by nicola forbes

I came to say my last farewells at the hospital today
My last remaining memory of a neverending day.
They thought of me as crazy as I fingered through your rags
as I cried on tattered slippers, old worn clothes in plastic bags.
They thought my heartache wasted on an old man wracked in pain
They handed me your favourite hat - I cried out loud again.
What did you have to offer so that I was so forlorn
that I would fall to pieces over clothing you had worn?
They led me from the office to the chapel where you lay.
They left me for a moment, most probably to pray
but I did not speak to Jesus or to mighty God above.
I bent to kiss you gently and spoke to you of love.
I thanked you for the loving that you gave me through my life
I thanked you for the patience when I offered so much strife.
I love you for the good times and the times we laughed alone
and I thanked you for security inside our modest home.
For being their to love me when my parents walked away
I'll always love you grandad and in my heart you'll always stay.
So to them an old mans dying was just a part of every day
without the time to understand what made me feel this way.
So if you see me crying over clothes in plastic bags
remember all the memories in an old mans worn out rags.