Theyll talk about how you were a good kid on the farm, And how you told us one mischievous story after the other: Like throwing apples at the wasp nest near your father, Or trying to make dynamite in the basement.
Theyll talk about your strong, religious convictions, Your love of gospel music and live concerts, And the deep, abiding friendship you had with my father Kept vital to the bitter end.
Theyll talk about your work on the railroad, The long hours spent away from home and family, Your uncompromising demand for safety in the shops, The way you hired the inspector away from OSHA.
You stood up to mob bosses And you stood up to this goddamned disease, Until it left you both bloated and withered And the lucid moments became fewer And empty look in your eyes absolutely crushed us.
Ill remember that Christmas was the last time That you tugged my long braid To tell me you loved me As if the words werent enough.
Rest now. You've earned it. 09-17-36 to 04-30-09
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