Stacy Lawson's poem begins like a plea to keep living, repeating "Choose life" as if the speaker is counting off every reason to hold on: breath, sight, a beating heart, a mind full of questions. Then it makes a surprising turn. The final choice might be death, and the speaker accepts that it can be "intensely personal." Rather than judging, the poem says to let it come and ride it like a wave.
The second half shifts to the person left behind. The speaker promises small, physical acts of remembrance: wearing sweaters, wiping tears on sleeves, cooking favorite dishes, writing daily to the one who is gone. These details make grief feel ordinary and close. The mood is tender, sad, and steady. The speaker is not pretending the loss won't hurt, but promises to stay and not run away. The last line, "Gone is not all gone," offers quiet comfort: love and memory continue.