Last Words

So, this is how I die.
Laying on the cool grass under the hot Louisiana sun.
There could be worst ways to go, I guess.
Charlotte, baby I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for always weaseling my way out of doing the dishes.
You look better doing it.
Jay, my little man.
I'm sorry I won't be able to play catch.
You're gonna grow up to have one hell of an arm.
Cornell, brother
I'm gonna miss your gumbo.
Sorry I won't see that restaurant of yours.
​Look after my family.