I'll Miss

A Poem About When I Die

Do you ever think about death, I was asked.
Like it was something terrible, something to fear,
Like I was only allowed to think about it on “bad” days.
As if the thought alone meant I wasn’t okay.

Who are you kidding?

Of course, I think about when I’ll die, more than I’d like to admit, because I think about all the things I wouldn’t have anymore.

I’ll miss the smell of ground coffee in the morning blending with the rain on the tin roof.

I’ll miss that same rain,
the way it smells when the winter clouds give way,
as the clouds open, the streetlights reflect on the ground.

I’ll miss people watching,
hearing a stranger order the same coffee, for the hundredth time.

I’ll miss the silence between moments with close friends,
moments of silence that don’t need filling.

I’ll miss the damp smell of the redwoods,
the ever quiet pull they have, the feeling it gives,
making me question whether I ever was an ocean person.

I’ll miss the laughter of the lady at work,
she sits 5 cubicles over.
She makes me smile, yet she doesn’t even know it.

I’ll miss eating food with friends.
I jokingly say, “I could die a happy man”.
But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the sweetness of life,
all the food yet to follow.

I’ll miss the passing joke from my lover,
&
I’ll miss the smell of a Sunday afternoon, whatever that means to you.

I’ll miss my mother’s voice,
when everything feels too hard.

So, if thinking about death means I’m not okay.
Maybe being okay is forgetting,
just how much I love being here.

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All My Love
TK xx