Random Prompt #10

[TranquillityBase]

The Third and Fourth Generation
   ~Numbers 14:18


Grandpa drove north in early summer,
never calling ahead.
He'd surprise us with late evening arrival,
expecting dinner.
Mom would make him another supper—
that's how she was raised.

His dad left him without any warning,
when he was very young.
His grandmother fed him without complaint—
that's how she was raised.

His grandfather's closest friend was opium.
They bonded during the civil war
over musket fire and a gangrenous leg
that never fully healed.
They swapped war stories in silence
of the departed who wouldn't die.
It vanished in 1906—
pulled from the drug store's shelves.

He wept to his wife too many times,
and she told him, "Just go ahead
and do it already."
Grandpa found him the next morning
after tending the chicken pen, 
hanging by his neck from a cross-beam in the barn.

Grandpa would start wearing slippers
the last week of August.
My brother and I would wake unaware
to a crisp, windy morning,
mom's face left behind 
to tell us that he drove off during the night.

That's how he raised us, with unsparing rod:
grandfathers vanish, so don't ever care.

Hi Lizzie,

Just a note to say how much I enjoyed (and was impressed by) this poem.  I've re-read it many times, just to re-experience it.  Deserves to be workshopped if you're of a mind to do so.

Just one suggestion to start with, concerning the phrase "gangrenous leg/that never fully healed".  Gangrene would have been fatal (I think) had it persisted.  So I think something like "shattered leg" or something else would be more appropriate.

Marvellous details throughout and last lines are unforgettable.

TqB