You Are In Good Hands: A Grieving

I sit alone. Wondering what went wrong. I was talking about my plans for the future. I could not understand. So cold were his face and hands. I ask my God why? Silence was his reply. Another loss, I have gained. I held my chest to stop the pain. My God! Now, my Father? So, innocent and young. I held his hand close to my heart, this was how my mourning started. I love you mom and dad, you are in good hands. No more harm or pain from me. (This poem is about what I felt when my father died, and I was beside the deathbed holding his hand)