“Only Twelve”

My grandmother died today.
We all sit around the room
like patients in a doctor’s office.
Not a one will speak
of our disease to any other
although this may be
our most common bond.
I see my sister
through tear-streaked eyes;
so young and fragile
scared and wanting to cry,
but waiting for her cue
from someone who should know.
I am only twelve
and do not know
but a tear, then two,
slither from my eyes
and I cry,
Not for grandma’s loss
but for my own.