Monday, April 16, 2012
Poem about turning gray
Everywhere I go,
People that I know,
I hear them laugh and say,
Andy's going gray.
There are some who cannot bear
A color change to their hair.
There are some who hate to be told,
The Inevitable: they're growing old.
It was not inevitable for me,
Doctors would certainly agree.
"Improbable" would be a better word,
At least, that's what my parents heard.
Dreams weren't supposed to come true,
Birthdays were supposed to be few.
Doctors predicted I would die young,
Thanks to the disease that crippled each lung.
The things I would not see,
The list was long for me.
A wedding, a college degree, dreams that others had,
A full-time job, a legacy, someone to call me dad.
From the day I was given my prognosis,
I was expected to lose the battle to cystic fibrosis.
Others were given decades; I wasn't.
Life expectancy was a baker's dozen.
I've dealt with the hand I was given,
And that's why I'm still among the living.
Some days are tougher than others,
Thank goodness for my father and mother.
Things have worked out for me,
The list is long you see.
A wedding, a college degree, dreams others had,
And a few little ones to call me dad.
So the next time I hear them snicker,
I'll feel fortunate that I'm not sicker.
I'll stand up and proudly say,
I'm damn proud to be going gray.