Marie A. Ybarra

When I come to the end of the road, and the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom-filled room, why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little but not too long, and not with your head bowed low

Remember the love that we once shared. Miss me . . . but let me go.

For this is a journey that we all must take, and each must go alone.

It’s all a part of the master plan, a step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick of heart, go to the friends we know,

And bury your sorrow in doing good deeds, miss me . . . but let me go.