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Personal Note:

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Poem

When the bells of death have rang,
Do this on my will:

Do not force my wife to wear black clothes,
And do not do anything on her looks.
I left her beautiful, and I want her to stay beautiful.

You can tear my clothes or burn them.
Or roll them in mud or give them to the poor... 
Because I am the one that died.
But don't make my wife wear her clothes the inside out:
I left her beautiful, and I want her to stay beautiful.

When I die and I am gone;
Don't cover my wife with blankets.
And don't make her stay indoors for 30 days.
Let her laugh when someone cracks a joke
And let her go to our favourite spot in the river.
Let her cook her favourite stew
And let her drink if she wants to.

To the one who'll marry my wife after I'm dead:

Let her play Country Music,
Let her read her favourite poems;
Let her remember me.

Don't get rude if she calls you by my name,
And let her wear my blue scotch shirt
Because I know she'll keep it.
And let her have my guitar.

Lastly, allow her to visit me on my grave
And don't you ever beat her.

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