Tribute

jeremy

{november}
Would it be weird if we went to the hospital?
What do you say to a sick someone
Who you only know from one night at Chili’s restaurant. Two hours of chips, dip and a loud crowd.
I sat next to you--my friend Elissa’s friend’s cousin’s fiancé. As you made your little jokes. And tried to teach me how to make bird calls through cupped hands.

{january}
You go in first. No, you. Just go!
We caught news of your digestive misery.
You were not a stranger; not a friend; but somewhere, something in-between.
We presented you with the candy you requested, from the gift shop down the hall.
Then took seats in front of your bed and tried to think think of things to say.
I made my little jokes. I will never remember what I said. But I will remember you
lightly clapping, to express your amusement
too weak to laugh.

As the jokes and daylight ran thin, I let the bed curtain half-eclipse me, anxious to get home.
“There’s nothing for me here.” you informed us.
I watched you, watching me leave the room.

{april}
We caught news that you weren’t around anymore.
The Crohn’s wasn’t directly to blame. Your twenty-eight year life was ended, by your choice.
What was the last thing I said to you?
What do you say after all, to a someone you only knew
from chips dip and little jokes.
I don’t remember what I said. But it must have been right. Cause I do remember
You clapping