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Well, this isn’t even really a poem, NeeNee
I didn’t take the time to rhyme
I guess it’s more of a letter to you
Containing just some of the memories I had the honour of sharing with you
I had sort of lost the knack for poetry
So I wasn’t able to shower you with pretty verses
But I think it’s better this way, with all my thoughts compiled in one

You were always laughing:
As we all sat around you, comforting one another after you had passed
This was the first thing said about you
It’s so true
Everyone had a story to share, and I wanted to remind you of a few of ours
Remember when we were talking about the Ink Spots and the Platters?
The age when vinyls were more than collectibles and the phonograph was a necessity?
You spontaneously mentioned that when you passed on the records and record player would be mine
You started to snicker when I chided you for making it seem like that was a good thing
It was our own inside joke, even though I’ll never know how you could still joke about these circumstances
Another day we were watching the news when a corny weight-loss commercial came on
When a model declared “Hydroxycut worked for me!” we both started to giggle
Then you surprised me by turning to me and declaring just as proudly
“Chemotherapy worked for me!”
Now every time I hear or see a weight loss fad I’ll remember your constant optimism, no matter what you were going through
I know both these memories were while you were sick, and I have many more from before then
But I think how you paid no mind to bad times and somehow pulled us all through trials with your laughter make them all the more memorable

You always had to be just-so:
This was one of my favorite traits of yours
When I was asked to play Dolly Levi in The Matchmaker you were the person I tried to emulate
Even when you were going to get chemo, you insisted on wearing make-up and jewelry and dressing in a proper outfit
We could be at home just waiting for the nurse to come and you had to look your best
I saw this as a trait that showed you would never back down and never appear anything less than strong
You would throw a fit if we even mentioned the word “weak”
It wasn’t in your vocabulary
Even when you were in that hospital bed, you wanted to look nice
You’d play with your hair, you’d fix your robe, you even tried to climb out because you insisted you had to put lipstick on
I bet you’ll look beautiful in that dress Cousin Killa and mom and Aunt Cathy picked out
And now seeing you, you do
You also never complained
You always deflected any hurt onto something else, like making sure things were just right, or cracking a joke about your own misfortune
It amazed me how you never admitted you were hurting
This trait is something you’d really convicted me with
Now I want to be strong to make you proud and not let anything overtake me

You had a beautiful singing voice:
Even when I was little I would love to hear you sing
It was gentle and slow, and you always put emotion into every hymn
I’ve even started teaching myself how to harmonize just so I could try to sing like you
But I constantly have to make sure I’m on the right note
I could never naturally harmonize like you always did
I still remember you singing out loud and proudly when we would watch PCC on the television
You usually only wanted to watch when the hymns were sung
That was your favourite part
We’d sit there and sing, but mostly I’d listen to you and commit every moment to memory
I never want to forget your soothing voice that I’ve loved as long as I can remember

There are many other traits you possessed that I greatly admired, but I’m afraid that this poem is getting long as it is
I know it hardly does you, your life, and your personality justice, but I hope that it’s enough
And you and Uncle Rick are probably looking down joking about my spelling or grammar errors or that it’s poorly written or that it doesn’t even rhyme
Just like y’all both used to do

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Well, this isn’t even really a poem, NeeNee
I didn’t take the time to rhyme
I guess it’s more of a letter to you
Containing just some of the memories I had the honour of sharing with you
I had sort of lost the knack for poetry
So I wasn’t able to shower you with pretty verses
But I think it’s better this way, with all my thoughts compiled in one

You were always laughing:
As we all sat around you, comforting one another after you had passed
This was the first thing said about you
It’s so true
Everyone had a story to share, and I wanted to remind you of a few of ours
Remember when we were talking about the Ink Spots and the Platters?
The age when vinyls were more than collectibles and the phonograph was a necessity?
You spontaneously mentioned that when you passed on the records and record player would be mine
You started to snicker when I chided you for making it seem like that was a good thing
It was our own inside joke, even though I’ll never know how you could still joke about these circumstances
Another day we were watching the news when a corny weight-loss commercial came on
When a model declared “Hydroxycut worked for me!” we both started to giggle
Then you surprised me by turning to me and declaring just as proudly
“Chemotherapy worked for me!”
Now every time I hear or see a weight loss fad I’ll remember your constant optimism, no matter what you were going through
I know both these memories were while you were sick, and I have many more from before then
But I think how you paid no mind to bad times and somehow pulled us all through trials with your laughter make them all the more memorable

You always had to be just-so:
This was one of my favorite traits of yours
When I was asked to play Dolly Levi in The Matchmaker you were the person I tried to emulate
Even when you were going to get chemo, you insisted on wearing make-up and jewelry and dressing in a proper outfit
We could be at home just waiting for the nurse to come and you had to look your best
I saw this as a trait that showed you would never back down and never appear anything less than strong
You would throw a fit if we even mentioned the word “weak”
It wasn’t in your vocabulary
Even when you were in that hospital bed, you wanted to look nice
You’d play with your hair, you’d fix your robe, you even tried to climb out because you insisted you had to put lipstick on
I bet you’ll look beautiful in that dress Cousin Killa and mom and Aunt Cathy picked out
And now seeing you, you do
You also never complained
You always deflected any hurt onto something else, like making sure things were just right, or cracking a joke about your own misfortune
It amazed me how you never admitted you were hurting
This trait is something you’d really convicted me with
Now I want to be strong to make you proud and not let anything overtake me

You had a beautiful singing voice:
Even when I was little I would love to hear you sing
It was gentle and slow, and you always put emotion into every hymn
I’ve even started teaching myself how to harmonize just so I could try to sing like you
But I constantly have to make sure I’m on the right note
I could never naturally harmonize like you always did
I still remember you singing out loud and proudly when we would watch PCC on the television
You usually only wanted to watch when the hymns were sung
That was your favourite part
We’d sit there and sing, but mostly I’d listen to you and commit every moment to memory
I never want to forget your soothing voice that I’ve loved as long as I can remember

There are many other traits you possessed that I greatly admired, but I’m afraid that this poem is getting long as it is
I know it hardly does you, your life, and your personality justice, but I hope that it’s enough
And you and Uncle Rick are probably looking down joking about my spelling or grammar errors or that it’s poorly written or that it doesn’t even rhyme
Just like y’all both used to do