I try to think,
back to after you got sick.
to the details outside
Of you and your cancer.

But the harder I
Try to place my finger
upon those details,
The more i realize
I wasn't paying attention.

I can't remember
anything but you.
Sick, in pain, and scared.
Begging me not to leave.
Telling me...

"I'm not ready to leave.
I'm not ready to go.
You, me and Willow
Still have a lot to do."

So I don't remember.
I only remember my dad.
And that he wasn't ready to go
Anymore then we were ready
to let him go.