What will be the hour of my demise?
When will I last close my curious blue eyes?
Will it be foretold? A long-awaited grief,
Will it be unexpected, sudden, and brief?
Will I know and be ready -greet my goodbye,
Or will my last sound be the gasp of surprise?

It's not me that will hurt, after it's all done,
It's the ones that love me left to carry on.

I have known grief well; it's been with me since age 14,
Unrelenting sadness, a weight left unseen.
It's worth it, I suppose, the love with the loss,
For most can feel love without thinking of cost.
I wish I could live life unburdened and free,
Not plagued with thoughts of what all of it means.

When my soul breaks surface and slips 'neath the lake,
How many ripples will be left in my wake?
Will it be a few people who carry me as they live?
Or something grander and lasting? Do I have more to give?

Will I write the great novel and impact even more,
Become famous, or rich, celebrated, and adored?

Or simply love those around me, and keep my impact small,
And would any of these things even matter much at all?

"'Do any see the beauty in each passing day?'
'Poets and dreamers,'" - something I heard in a play.

I like to think I'm special, with more dreams than the rest,
But I think it's more likely I'm just mildly depressed.

Mom was stolen by cancer at the young age of 51.
Was her purpose fulfilled? Was she really done?
Many years later, Dad stopped eating and trying,
Mind muddled, hands trembling, he was actively dying.
Ready to go, he fell asleep and closed his eyes,
simply slipped away that night and left us behind.

Worldly gifts, memories, and so much love remain,
But both now departed, did they live life in vain?
Did they ever find purpose, in death or in life?
And were we, their four children, their main reason why?

Was family enough, something seemingly so small?
And in the end, did it even matter at all?

What this means for me I really don't know.
I'd like to think I have a long way to go
To find answers before it's time for dying.
But perhaps living is simply that:
Trying.