Every Time You Think of Me

When you think of me—
don’t stop at the ending.

Don’t replay the last days,
the hospital rooms,
the goodbyes that were never long enough.
That’s not the whole story.

Remember the way we laughed until we couldn’t breathe.
The stupid inside jokes.
The times I showed up for you when nobody else did.
The way I said your name.
The way we were just… us.

When you think of me,
don’t turn it into pain you carry like a punishment.
I don’t live in your grief.
I live in the pieces of you I helped shape—
the strength, the love, the spark you still have.

When you tell my stories, don’t whisper.
Say them out loud.
Laugh. Cry. Swear if you need to.
Let me still exist in your world,
not just in the quiet parts of your heart.

And when you wonder if I’m still with you—
I am.
Not in some grand, glowing way.
But in the small things.
The sudden calm that steadies you.
The warmth that shows up out of nowhere.
The way something ordinary suddenly feels familiar.

That’s me.
Still proud of you.
Still watching.
Still here,
every time you think of me.