Don't let your tears fall heavy when my time has come.
The sky will hold enough rain for both of us.
Instead, let your heart be light with
the weight of memory,
the kind that doesn't ache, but warms.
Remember the moments stitched into the fabric of days--
laughter spilling without reason,
the quiet comfort of sitting side by side,
words unspoken, yet understood.
Hold the sound of my voice not in sadness,
but like a familiar song that lingers
long after the last note has faded.
Think of the mornings we greeted like old friends,
the nights filled with simple, sacred stillness,
the ordinary woven into something extraordinary
because we were there, together.
Grief will come; let it.
But don't build your home there.
I am not in the shadow of loss,
but in the light of every memory we made--
alive in the echo of your laughter,
the warmth of your smile,
the rhythm of your days.
So when my time has come,
don't cry too long.
Just remember--
and in remembering,
know that love never leaves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem