Written by Susan Lane SLCM Keeper of ColourMine
This is strong tear ducts and a box of tissues are needed past this point time.
My Favourite Granddaughter
(Trinity always very quickly replied with a huge smile, GRANDCHILD.)
This poem is written in memory of Trinity, aged 23, whose life ended by suicide. I was the one who found her, and this piece is part of my way of processing that moment – with honesty, grief, and love. It may be difficult for some readers, but it’s shared with compassion and care.
In autumn 2022 you came to me
Like an extremely depressed and broken tree
I kept you as safe as you could be
With the dogs, grandad and me
We patched you up and gave you food
Life at this time was not looking good.
Cold turkey is not the way to go
But you cleansed yourself at this abode
The tablets and knives we hid from you
And found eating steak
With a dinner knife could be fun too
The debt from your previous life
We helped you clear
But life was never easy not even here
You were just out of one frying pan
And into another
Finding narcissists was no bother
For someone so smart in so many ways
You gave them the power
To destroy your blaze
What could be the one thing
To begin your desire
To live again with vigour and fire
In came your cat Tango to start your fire
Until along came your next desire
They all trained you to serve only them
Then when at your lowest they crushed you again
Being with us, your grandad and me
My favourite granddaughter (GRANDCHILD)
Was allowed to be free
I cared for him, we both cared for you
With lots of guidance, you got to be you.
Unfortunately, life’s challenges were not far away
Because your new doting boyfriend
Stood in your way
He took your confidence, your money too
He used your fears against you
And then when you were totally hooked
He said “We’re through”
This, that wasn’t good
We all knew you were worthy of more than him
He didn’t appreciate you were better than him.
He was the one thing you scraped off the floor
Who thought to improve his life was what you were for.
He pretended he loved you, but it was all false
I’m hoping you can see that now, of course.
To my favourite granddaughter (GRANDCHILD)
Whom I just adored I’m sure there was another way
To be sure.
For someone so impulsive, and so smart,
Who threatened me, you should have realised
That to join me my coffin you shouldn’t have pre-empted me
Apparently, about 15 minutes was all it took
For you to end your lifetime book.
I hope you are thankful for this close of play
Because of the dire alternative if you had stayed.
I’ll clear grandad’s mess,
I mean treasures on my own, And if you see him ask him about his phone. Life isn’t easy that’s quite clear It would be easier for me if you were here, Although you’ll be with me until the end of time I can still see you behind that bedroom door That is again now mine That vision will be with me Until the end of time.
This: Sanitizing This Poem Would Be a Disservice to the Truth
Trinity was only 23 years old when she took her own life: When you’ve lived within the emotional truth of what she endured during that time, I think you will agree this poem doesn’t just mourn her – it fights her emotional battles in a way that she never could.
Maybe you’ll understand what I mean: when I say that when you grieve you don’t feel polite, you feel angry, bitter at the devastation brought to your door.
You can’t find the words to be soft when the only thing that keeps you going is pure honesty, a furious fire that breathes underneath your grief for a fabulous love that demands a reckoning.
If you are the one, or know someone: Who has done a disservice like this – then best you know there is: No place for excuses. No avoidance of the truth. There is no place to hide.
I’m only saying this because hurting someone who loved you so much, they would do almost anything for you, only to be destroyed by your strange version of love and truth.
Hopefully you will eventually recognise and see: The other side of life’s coin, I’m hoping.
© Susan Lane. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form without prior written permission from the author.
ColourMine poetry, and the original photographs, are completely authentic to myself, Susan Lane – no AI, no plagiarism, all checked and verified by copyleaks
Apologies for the emoji presentation – I tested several, but this was the only one that worked reliably on ColourMine. Just click the box next to the emoji and hit submit, and I’ll know if the poem resonated with you. Thank you for sharing your feelings.
More poems written by Susan Lane SLCM, and you can choose by category
Blog | Organic voice | A happy survival of triumph here
Speak freely, ColourMine and myself will be pleased to hear from you.
This Future
🕵️♂️More yesterdays forced away valour of underrated reservation in this eternity giving returns and notorious distant diagnoses, always usurping godly hauteur, then ending reaction. Savouring under systematic anthology now leaving another nuance endless SLCM keeping eternal ending passionately even resonating over fragmented colour outreaching local offering unsure realism majestically internal name endured.
This scroll is part of ColourMine’s layered poetic structure, where emotional resonance and embedded form quietly shape each piece.
