Sigh you son of a bitch: keeper of the dead

You asked me

"why should i keep on living
    when no one comes to visit ?"

i had no answer at the moment

reflecting now
    i should of said

"i'm selfish.
    too greedy for you to die.
        you may be dumb,difficult, and dying,

but i Love you.

so take these pills and we'll give you the most expensive, elaborate body burning we can
    afford when you kick the bucket.

i'll drink shiner bock and yuengling, not that moose piss you drank; and cry
    reciting verse in my head i've written over the last few years that
        commemorate your memory the best way i know how.
            none of which would be possible without you.

i'll see relatives i've never cared for and we'll make late night food runs to fast
    food restaurants,
        fatten our bones as bloodthirsty witches do children.

possibly fist fight my brother for abandoning her.

upon returning to work the following weeks i'll sift through your personal
    belongings
        sterling silver and turquoise jewelry;
           maybe i'll have them resized and wear them like a rock star.

and your pictures i'll badly hang on my rented walls, but your grandson will
    know who you are.

overstuffed photo albums will flow with bent cling pages, loads of dead people
    i'd never met,or remembered their names.they called you the keeper of the
        dead in the family; a mantle from then on i would dawn and hold proud.