I can see it. I can see that it isn't there. I can feel it. I can feel what isn't there. It stands beside me. Hand outstretched to her. It's going to take her away. Take away her pain, her sadness and replace it with the memories of her happiness. The warmth. Immense warmth pouring from it. The crushing pressure. My knees buckle. I need something to support myself with. It moves into the room from the doorway. Arm outstretched. She smiled as she left. She left in his arms. She smiled her goodbye. She smiled her love. She smiled everything she was. Then she left to him. She left the room. The pressure resides. The heat fades. She is gone. She went with him. The presence. It came to take her and it did. It took her away and now she is gone. She is gone, but I can still feel it. It waits. For what? Can the others see it? Can the other feel it? I can see it. I can feel it. It can see all. It stops as it leaves. Waiting for just a moment. Her warmth sweeps the room once more before they leave. She is gone, but she left with us her love. Her love too stubborn to leave. As stubborn as she. Within me, I feel. She is there. She is at peace. Rest easy grandmother. On Saturday, October 25th, I watched my grandmother take her last breath. It hurt, as usually these things do. I felt something within me building up. I couldn't place what it was. It wasn't pain, it wasn't hurt, it was something else. I needed to release it. I needed to do something to get it out of me, but by not knowing what it was, I didn't know what I was looking for therefore I didn't know how to extract it. I tried instead of expressing how I felt about my grandmother and what had happend. I tried to draw, nothing would come out right. The lines were either too dark or too think. I tried to play my bass, but the notes wouldn't key right. I tried to write but the words simply didn't fit. I tried to bake, but it didn't help. I'm not sure exactly what it was that was in me that was stopping me from being able to do anything, but whatever it was, was linked to the pent up feeling. Everytime I would close my eyes, images would flash before my eyes and i would hear voices, laughing, crying, yelling, talking. Nothing made sense. I tried to sleep with the tv on but all the noise would drown out the sound of the tv. I couldn't sleep. I was afraid to close my eyes less I see her laying in that bed again or hear the crying laughter. But something happened, it was suddenly gone. The block released. I took advantage of my moment of sanctuary and wrote this little paragraph dedicated to my grandmother. It doesn't do her justice, and it may not seem much to someone else. But there is alot more written here beyond just the words, so for someone like myself, there is a novel upon this paragraph. Image is hand drawn with black gel pen, yellow colored pencil, and green colored pencil. Used IfranView to mess around with the contrast and color saturation. I posted the poem over on myspace a while back but it took me until a week before christmas to actually draw this, and until now to work up the courage to post it. She was obsessed with yellow roses.