A prelude to his eulogy.

At 24, you said you didn’t have too long

That makes roughly 9702 days on Earth
And music worth 30GB in your mp3,
A couple of near-death experiences
And 768 packets of L&M
At the rate of four per week in four years.

I asked, “What makes you so sure?”
You shrugged and blew away the ash in your ashtray.

When you were a child, you’d pick wild berries and throw them to the blackbirds;
When I was a child, I’d hide my chocolate in a secret compartment in the refrigerator.

I think that I am ready to die
But I have yet to touch a life
You think
You are ready to die — incapable of doing the aforementioned.

How easily,
You digress
And change the subject
From you to me,
Unaware — unaware, you de-stress
Flick your lighter once more in the dark.

Neruda tells his lover to not go too far off
For a day is too long —
And I’m here to say goodbye
While you’re still alive;
I wouldn’t want to wait till you’re dead,
Curled up in bed
With that last cigar.

Last evening, you wondered if
Anybody would remember you —
“Anybody at all?!” you yelled into the open air
While I stayed quiet.

You wondered
If your best friend would remember you
If your father would cry
Whether your mother would hug you
As you die…
You wondered
If your nieces would see you and tear down
If your nephew would never come back around.

You wondered
Of all the faces your eyes fell upon…
Did they ever meet the lover
Who was never born?
Did you ever see the Light and not know what it was?
Was there ever someone
Who really heard you cry?

You wondered — and you looked through me
An apparition in flesh sans intensity
And I wondered what you see:
Could you tell that I am now free?
Could you tell that you have been helping me?
Can you fall back
Knowing you’ve saved a life?
Has it ever occurred to you
That I might be the first to die?

And then you blink
And let the moment pass by.