gin and newspaper clippings,
your photo album on the table.
i'm not sure i am able to think clearly at the moment, you've spoken many words to me
but right now all that i can think of- the sound of Everybody Loves Raymond on your tv.
the way you'd say "God bless you, dear" as i kissed your cheek,
"be kind to your parents, you are lucky that you have them," you said, "the world has gone to shit."
but i think the world is lucky that you were a part of it.
you filled your glass part way several times with alcohol, saying it's ok because the glass was never full,
i remember filling my glass with water in the kitchen of your old house- the one with the basement- before i'd go to sleep.
i think the insignificant is the most significant to me.
a few years ago, your heart failed. and all you saw was red.
that really scared me, i'm sorry i am sorry i don't know how to deal with the concept of death.
and at your funeral there will be people i have never met. everyone is living, everyone is experiencing life in a way i'll never understand.
and when they're gone, the whole world won't know the difference.
you're gone, the whole world doesn't know the difference. but i do.
and so does my dad, you are his dad.
and so does my grandma, she was beside you. whispered "i love you, i love you"
why do those words make me sad?
i wish i would have called you, my aunt called me
she told me
heaven is real, i feel it all the time.
i hope my little brother is not ashamed to cry.
i am thinking of a story my dad told me once, and he was drunk,
and you helped him inside.
and he said, "gee bern, you're a great guy."
i am thinking, i am thinking of how everyone i know is going to die,
and so will i, i don't think the world will know the difference.
i know i don't understand and i'm trying to be ok with that,
am i getting sadder? is this getting sadder? it doesn't matter unless it matters to you.
i ask you if you think there is life after death,
you say "i do, i do, i do"
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