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by Mikayla Nelson
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– For my grandfather
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You’re sitting on the fantail in
Vietnam, pen in hand, writing
notes for back home, for your
wife and sons. Blue ink stains
the page with words of love and
a hopeful future. The grey deck,
steel walls, bland and boring
surround you like they do every
day. Just like those boilers in the
engine room where you worked,
ran the ship kept it going. Hot,
sweaty, heavy labor, asbestos,
defending your country; you
remember, at the doctor as dark
liquid is drained from your lungs,
you joke that your coffee went
down the wrong way.
Your first day of chemo. IV struck
through veins, three hours of what
you call blackberry brandy,
boilermaker, and rum and coke. As
your “hangover” lasts for weeks,
tired, dehydrated, not eating much
but watermelon, losing sleep, and
you think back to that day again.
Grey, dull, tired. But you Look
again. You remember the salty
ocean air, the sound of the waves
propelled from the ship beneath
you. And you look up, at the
sunset; reds, pinks, oranges,
yellows blended together in an
inevitable beauty, peaceful. And
you think to yourself, I would do
it all again.
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Mikayla Nelson is currently a mental health therapist from Minnesota. She grew up in a military family having a dad, two uncles, and a grandfather who all served for various years. Mikayla just wrote this poem about her grandfather when he was first diagnosed with mesothelioma from his years of service as an engineman. He passed away from this disease in October of 2020 and having this publication is the best way she could honor him.
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