A Proper Burial

I was only ten when I learnt about unhappy endings. 
Like when I knew my grandmother had cancer, 
I kneeled in churches, for God answers a kid’s prayers, they said. 
She died and I didn’t meet her to say one goodbye. 

She looked like a horrible nightmare, 
Not the one you saw last, not the one you loved,
A swollen, ugly remnant of what was once beloved, they said. 
Once botched goodbye, an unresolved parting for a little girl, 

There were no tears for her, only numbness that didn’t feel real,
From that chirrupy girl who never gave her a proper burial, 
Who died a little that day, with prayers unanswered, 
Full of questions but never with answers or resolutions, 

Now, I’ve grown older with bungled muted loves, 
Improper goodbyes, giving up too easily, too too easily.