Who's Next? Poem by Lauren Aaa

When visit him now,
All I see is a stone,
One with a familiar name,
And two dates. A birth and deth.

Death was expected,
But it hit me hard.
My grandfather was a farmer,
Who fed the world,
In exchange for little pay.

I was the grandchild,
Who was not afraid of him.
I would hug him,
Cousins would run.
I find myself missing him,
Though we never talked out loud.
I would gesture to him,
He would gesture back.
Now I talk, in heaven, he listens.

Life is different now.
And it scares me.
Grandpa is gone.
Who's next?