Zsigmond László Bura 2004

After my father died,
you were the first to arrive.
You brought happiness and laughter,
in our moments of disaster.

We were not related that was clear,
and I've called you "Lasi", in a tone all so dear.
I remember laughing together in many ways,
and you telling me about football games.
Soon, a friend is, what you've had become,
besides being my grandfather, that's 2-in-1.

It was a Saturday morning,
and my mother came home crying.
Grandmother and I were still in bed,
when she told us that you were dead.
Even after that I couldn’t cry.
Everyone questioned me, “Why?”
I was still waiting for your arrival, and it was at the burial,
when I realized that you’ve died.

I remember it all so clear,
At first I wasn’t standing to your coffin very near,
then I went closer without any fear.
It was an open coffin.
You weren’t the man you’ve once been,
and you weren’t in your natural position.
You were longing for air in depression.

Still I made a strange gesture…
my mouth turned to laughter.
Then I knew that you weren’t coming home,
and I wasn’t awaiting for your calling on the phone.

As the minutes passed I became more and more uneasy,
I was shaking and my breathing wasn’t easy.
By the time my mother wanted to leave,
I could hardly stand nor breathe.
“We will watch the Real Madrid game” – that’s what I said.
Stroking your cross and leaving you in your new bed.

I arrived home angry and mad!
I have yet again lost a Dad.
I rushed to my room and shut the door.
Cried… like I never did before…

You were loved and respected by all my friends,
and will be remembered, in all their heads
And as for me… what can I say?
I still feel your presence every day.