My First Words to a Dead Man

On death and remembering an old friend who is long gone. Inspired by a dream I had recently about someone I knew who passed away.

 It happened the day before my birthday;

what year, I don't remember. 

He was setting out with friends on a well-deserved 

Long overdue fishing trip. 

It was all he ever wanted. 

Peace. Freedom. Fun. 

And then a drunk driver came roaring 

Towards his friend's truck 

On the wrong side 

Of the highway

And crashed into them

And all of them turned out okay

Except him

And the drunk girl. 

She died right then right there. 

I always wondered if it hurt her much. 

He was in the middle of the back seat

Where there's no shoulder strap on the seatbelt. 

It damaged him beyond repair

And his heart was already running on batteries. 

I don't want to know what his last thoughts were. 

I wasn't allowed to visit him in the hospital.

My mother said he wasn't recognizable anyway.

In all the controlled chaos she barely remembered to get me a birthday cake. 

It was nice. Cookies and cream. 

It's funny 

How I remember the flavor

But I don't remember what his last words to me were. 

It's funny how we don't pay attention

To that stuff. 

Don't predict the significance

Until later. 

I should've been nicer to him. 

They kept him on life support

For ten days. 

They didn't need to. 

My dad said he looked gone from the 

First moment he was plugged in. 

They should have let him go from the start.

I never saw him in his casket. 

Maybe that was for the better. 

All he wanted was to have fun, to laugh. 

To relax. To get away. 

That's all he ever wanted. 

I should have gotten to say goodbye. 

Years after it happened I got to see

Him again. 

He was dressed well, clean-shaven. 

He looked like he always did. 

A second father, 

such a close family friend he was to us. 

I should have told him how much he meant to me.

I would have been taller than he, now. 

That's how I know I was dreaming. 

I saw him and I ran up to him and 

When I hugged him

I only came up to his chest. 

I should be taller than him now.

And after all these years

Of never thinking about it

My first words to a dead man were

"I'm sorry I didn't go to see you one 

Last time. I'm so sorry."

He held me tightly, like he always did. 

He was always too kind to me. 

He used to swing me high in his arms

And I'd giggle and shout at him to put me down

And he'd bellow his whale of a laugh and set me down more gently than 

I ever deserved. 

He said to me, "I understand. I've missed you, though."

I asked him not to let go for a while. 

He's happy now, wherever he is. 

I don't believe in God and Heaven, but 

He did. 

So wherever 

He is,

He's happy now. 

And so my first words to a dead man

Are words of guilt and sorrow. 

The white woods whisper

Death isn't always quiet,  

That sometimes the dying cling on begging,

"Don't let me go."

It's funny how I was the one to say it

This time. 

Author's Note

I wasn't too sure how to break the lines up, so I just did it as I felt the need to. What do you think of it?