Last Stop

They’ll say you had a full life.

They’ll 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.

They’ll 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.

They’ll 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.

I’ll remember that Christmas was the last time
That you tugged my long braid
To tell me you loved me
As if the words weren’t enough.

Rest now.
You've earned it.
09-17-36 to 04-30-09


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