Last Illness
O. Kris Widmer
June 13, 2005 1:50 p.m.
Written during a Two Funeral Week
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
I’ll be sick for the very last time.
You’ll see a sweet smile.
I’ll be dead just a while.
And then, I’ll be back in my prime.
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
It won’t be a cold or the flu.
Cancer? Perhaps.
Remission. Relapse.
I’ll slumber; than rise up, brand new!
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
I’ll catch what just cannot be cured.
Treatment won’t help,
Be it chemo or kelp.
But, I’ve a home up in glory assured.
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
To my side, you’d better come quick.
Cause you never can tell
If I’ll perish; get well.
Am I terminal or am I just sick?
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
My health plan will pay the last bills.
But Jesus will save!
I shall rise from my grave.
I’ll be whole, and I’ll say “No more pills!”
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
It will come, just as I expected.
I’ll just smile and grin.
I’ll have made it. I
WIN!
When dying, I won’t be dejected.
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
And that day will be O.K. with me.
Just lay me on down
With a smile, not a frown.
For I’m ready for eternity.
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
Life’s good, but there’s much I won’t miss.
Put some pink on my lips.
Make ‘em pucker, like this. (pucker)
For I’m gonna give Jesus a kiss.
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
And you know, you never can tell.
Will this time be it?
Should I fight on, or quit?
God knows if I’ll die, or get well.
Someday, I’ll have my last illness.
I’ll die, but then start a new trend.
My grave, it shall open.
(And that’s more than just hopin’.)
Then I’ll gaze in the face of my Friend.
