Six Years

“When I come to the end of the road
and the sun has set on me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room,
why cry for a soul set free.
Miss me a little–but not too long,
and not with your head bowed low,
Remember the love that we once shared,
miss me–but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take,
and each must go alone.
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan,
a step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart,
go to the friends we know.
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,
miss me–but let me go.”

That was the poem you selected for your funeral. It sounds just like something you would tell us

I never knew what your last words were, but I know your last moments
Lying in a hospital bed in PA, with your sister holding your hand
Taking your last breaths from a machine

The day before they life-flighted you to Pittsburgh, you tried calling me to say goodbye
I came home from school that day, messaged my friends and fell asleep
You knew how I was, I always slept during the day because I never could during the night
I woke up to your voicemail
“Anthony, I was calling to check in on things, see how you were, call me back,
I need to talk to you about something”
I never got to speak to you, I still wish I had been awake to answer your call
A huge piece of me died along with you

Not a day goes by without me missing you, I haven’t let go

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