Please let me go first, don’t let me remain
To suffer the loss and endure all the pain
Of being alone, with no one to share
The mem’ries of youth when you, Sis, were there.
Who, Sister, who then, will listen to me
When I tell the tale of that old apple tree
Whose limbs I told Grandpa I never would harm?
(I swung from those branches and broke my right arm.)
Who, Sister, who will roll back all the years
And help me recall how you dried all my tears
When robins were killed by some rocks that were thrown,
Leaving their birdies to die on their own?
Who, Sister, tell me, will smile when I laugh
And tell of my wedding and my awful gaffe.
My vows I forgot, though I wrote them in stone;
I smiled through my panic and made up my own.
And who will remind me of days long ago
When Jimmy Smith hugged me and wouldn’t let go?
You ran to tell Mother to get off the phone,
But when she arrived, I said, “Leave us alone!”
And who will go with me when daisies I buy
To lay on our parents’ graves? What if I cry?
And who’ll hold my hand as I think about Dad
Who in the Depression lost all that he had.
Who’ll be at your house when I pick up the phone
To tell you of someone who’d died that we’d known?
And then I’ll remember that you’ve gone on, too.
Dear Sis, I don’t know what I’ll do without you.
You’re all I have left who remembers those days;
The rest have gone on to enjoy heaven’s praise.
When your time is up and when God calls for you,
Please ask if your sister can tag along, too.
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