I write my essentials so as not to be forgotten
   by the time my funeral service and the casseroles
   and my cold ashes in some anonymous jar are an
   afterthought while the living move on as we do.

   Know that I was born March 23, 1949, at 5:32 am
   in Cincinnati, Ohio. Named William John Donovan
   the second. Firstborn son, 2 older sisters. I'm sure
   I was shriveled like a prune and PTSD after the chute.

   I lived a typical baby boomer life in that time.
   A whole bunch of hi jinks and other mistakes marked
   my time. A million laughs, a billion grins and pain
   and regret, etc. The scale is centered as far as I know.

   I'm now 69 (oh how long I wanted to say that) and I'm at
   a delicate place. I must dismantle my life. The **** collected
   is monumental. It's precious to me, only me. Proof of stuff
   I did at school, sports, work and clothes that defined me.

   Books are my essence. They map my life more than anything.
   I pile myself into boxes. I drop them at Goodwill. Goodbye.
   Soon I'll be empty enough to disappear. Please read this
   prayer and put me in a special place inside your heart.