My Visit to Him

Here I am. You wanted me here, and here I am. It's kind of dank, walls painted in slick grey, just like I remember on those Navy museum ships I'd visited when I was little. It's kinda chilly, and not because of the hard walls, but just kind of creepy because of why you made me come. It's his last days, and I'm supposed to pay my respects. I don't even know, don't even know if I ever knew him. Presumably I did, everyone else seems to or so it seems to me. They're expecting me to do something, make a difference, let him know that we care. Maybe it will help his peace, help him to know that not everyone hates him and that there are those of us who believe the world would be better if he remained. So, maybe it's not so bad being here. But, I'm still very uneasy. Maybe he'll hate me for being here. Maybe he'll scream and shout and go non-linear and I'll be forced to leave heart broken, disappointed that we couldn't bring him peace. But, then still, nothing would be lost as if I hadn't come in the first place. I just need to be prepared for that disappointment, allow time to heal and move on. They'll console me and bring me peace, but peace he couldn't have. Still, nothing is lost for him. There is everything to gain if I do bring him some additional peace that he may go knowing he was valuable to somebody and meant something to them.