He didn’t care
That I had gray hair
Or that I had a way
Of having my say.
That he adored me
In ways like no other
Isn’t a comfort
When I would rather
Have him here with me now.
To see his sweet face.
Don’t need the bullshit
“He’s in a better place.”
His place is here NOW.
Because if death is better
Then let me be bold:
Why not die later
When very, very old?