How I learned to hold grief at such a young age

Hi, my name is Kinsale Drake, and this is my poem, How I Learned to Hold Grief at Such a Young Age. Because my mama lost her daddy when she was too young and she didn't know how to hold her grief, so she let it break like waves against the inside of her skin until it was

all worn down trying to hold her together, and she only wanted my baby older sister to remember grandpa as a happy man. A man who stuck out his bum playing basketball, who told jokes so bad my Navajo grandma would scold him and kiss him and make him coffee, and that blue kettle their old house still has somewhere. Maybe under the cabinets or behind that