When I die…

(original poem)


When it is my last night

I believe I will know.

I would catalog the keepsakes,

label the photos I wanted my

children to understand,

And realizing the hours’ inability,

strew them across the house

and curl into the fetal position on

the living room rug with my babies.

And eventually, knowing there was

no time, I’d abandon the

meant-to-dos and forget-me-nots and

hold my children in the

wreckage of my memories.

I would go to Facebook and update:

“Thanks for the ride, guys.

I’ve loved you every minute.”

I would sing a few Jackson Browne songs

into my digital recorder and

hide it far and deep for

a later day without me in it.

I would take off my wedding ring and

bury it in my husband’s sock drawer

with a simple note: “It was never about

the ring. I have loved you truly.

You have my permission, when the time comes.”

I would set the table, because

who can cook pancakes through tears,

and lie down in my favorite silk pajamas.

I would stare at the ceiling,

kiss the air,

and pray to be wrong.

And I’d wait.



(Image credit: photo by Jean Carneiro.)

4 Responses to “When I die…”

  1. Smiling, crying, who knows what to do? It’s beautiful.

  2. eileen o norman says:

    Love this……particularly about leaving notes and mementos….but setting people free.

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