Now I shall rest, and here I will lie. But there are things I forgot to say. An apology for a childish fight. Or a good-bye when I left home that night. Forgotten hellos to a distant friend are things remembered in the end. But I can’t talk, or have you heard? My mouth won’t seem to form the words. I wish I could scream or clench my fist. When I think of all the things I’ll miss. One of the things I’ll never see, is my child resting on my knee. My first real job and first real pay. Or my parents on graduation day. Foreign countries far and near. My future bride, my first real car. Why couldn’t see my life so clear? Why did I have another beer? Why did I have to drive so fast? The good old days just couldn’t last. How odd it is to lie so still, and wish and wonder in the nightly chill. If I only had an hour awake, I could put to rest my worst mistake. And say good-bye to those who care, ignoring my body they can’t repair. But with things to say and things to see. How could something like this happen to me? We shake our head and wonder why. The good ones always have to die.