I remember how shy I felt
when I admitted one day that if I was about to die--
let’s say in a plane crash, that’s how it always plays out in my head--
And I could call one person, only one, it would be you.
Because it is to you that I owed my last words.
A lifetime of memories to recall,
but nothing mattered until you.
So who else was there?
I remember saying that in all honesty,
I didn’t think I could depend on anyone else to answer the phone.
Too busy.  Work sleep kids errands.  
Not my blood, not my friends.  You.
And as the wind blows, people scream, seat shakes
I would only say, “I love you.”

It was the meaning of my life
through brand new eyes.

…It remained so for a very long time.
Long after you were gone.
Then one day I cried
I realized I had no one to call.
Ring ring.  Voicemail again.