I'm Going to Miss You

Whenever I see you, you're as magical as always.

Goofy and irreverent and not at all serious.
I saw you cry when your wife died and that to me enhanced your strength.

And now you're sick.

And now you're dying.

And it's going to be slow.

And my heart is breaking for it.

This thing that's stealing you from me can't even remember my name.

It's going to sit inside of you, frustrating you, hurting you until you give up.

I know your strength won't allow you to quit.

I hope that you do it anyway.

I'm selfish in that the last thing I want to remember of you is you hugging me and kissing me over the holidays, and telling me you love me too.

And you remembering my name.

I hope that my sister comes home in time to see you, instead of just in time for the funeral.

They're going to ask me to sing, my family.

They're going to ask me to sing for you. A hymn. For GOD. That guy who's not even real and if he were, he SUCKS because he's killing you with this disease that can't even remember my name.

I'll agree to sing the hymn for you and for GOD and I'll lie and pick my own.

One that actually means something.

One that assigns humanity and mortality to humans and shit happens.
They'll be mad, my family, as they usually are.

They'll be disappointed and quiet and seeeeeeething. So angry.

But I'm not going to care because you're my family too and you would love it, the song I'm going to sing for you and for US.

And my family only show anger behind closed doors, never to faces, so I'll be sure to avoid being on the same side of the door as they are when it's closed.

I'm only going to miss you forever, you know. Not that long at all. It's only for always.