Others could tell you how he is there.
What went wrong, what stopped ticking,
Where health, medicine, science failed.
I am more interested in why he is there.
Does he deserve it?
I think not.
Tubes enter, violate saggy skin, tired with surviving old
eyes drop, droop closed, bloodshot at last look, never to see me again.
Something breathes in the corner.
It breathes for both of us.
Me- I am breathless with anger. Why now, Are-You-There-God?
Withered fingers curl on crisp sheets, sodden with the morning, sodden with lost hopes.

Flashbacks in dozing heads, of summers gone and swimming pools, and Grandpa in those horrid shorts.
Grandma had no taste, but I would give anything to see him in those now.
Flashbacks of nativity plays, of tea and scones and elderly friends
And all those Beale Park weekends,
Of perfume and hugs, of Old Spice and pats on expectant shoulders.

You beep, and inch by inch you turn greyer.
They aren't worried. 'It's time' they say.
A metronome keeps time as time fades away.

Effie Yalena Steyn

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-support-goodbye-grandpa/