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Me: Hey God.
God: Hey John.
Me: What should I say to somebody who is about to die?
God: The exact same things you should say to everybody else whenever you have a chance.
Me: What’s that?
God: I love you. I love you so. I forgive you. I’m sorry. I’m blessed to know you. I’m so grateful to you. I think that you are beautiful. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you. I love you so.
*********
{we are roommates in hospice care together and every conversation we share
could be the most important moment in our lives}
{you and I are both dying right now so let’s not leave a single word unspoken between us ~ let’s speak the softest poetry to each other by moonlight
because one of us might not physically be here in the morning}
{we are fading stars calling to each other across the vast universe to bathe each other in the softest light of love one last time
before we slip through the vortex and back into time}
{together we can build a confessional out of the gentle glances we give each other while we hold hands
and quietly pardon every scar we carved into each other before we knew any better}
{if we remember that every heartbeat is being counted then there will never be any ordinary seconds spent between us
~ each breath we share will be draped in importance}
{in this planet of 8 billion hospice patients there is so much magic and so many chances to brush each other with rose petals
before we are swept away by resurrection}
let’s lace our hands as if eternity is opening up the veil into the great mystery right in front of us
let’s feel our fingers against each other as if this is the last time we will touch before we become celestial kites
let’s part our lips and say what we should have said to each other years ago
I love you. I love you so. I forgive you.
I’m sorry. I’m blessed to know you. I’m so grateful to you.
I think that you are beautiful. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you.
I love you so.
~ john roedel
