You are nothing now, but if I had the chance to wish one thing of you, it is this: (may your past rest in parenthesis) only an aside in the monologue of life a soliloquy to the fourth wall of dramatic irony a bracketed prologue to your story interjecting an understanding of now and everything from now in a seemingly never-ending pattern as present becomes past and enters the parentheses
when your death came and your last words and thoughts slipped behind you death was the only thing left unsheltered as your brackets came to a close but may you rest in every moment and memory you contained in interjection thus far, (may you rest in parenthesis)