On this last day of June in the year 2015, we take a moment to remember Expanded Polystyrene, aka EPS, known by his friends in the coffee shops and street carts as, simply, Styrofoam. Today is the last day he will be with us legally in New York City. Today, if we must, we say goodbye.

Styrofoam, you held our Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and you kept our halal street food warm. Styrofoam, you were frequently found nestled between pints of ice cream in chest freezers at the deli. What were you doing in there, Styrofoam? You were containing cubes of ice so that any New Yorker with a will and a way could get a party going with but a blender and a moment’s notice.

Styrofoam, best of all, you were sold for under three dollars in the shape of rectangular coolers that were at once impossibly light and unforgivably cumbersome. Carrying you to the beach on the A train, Styrofoam, many fights were started over you.

“Why did you buy this dumbass Styrofoam cooler? It’s falling apart.”

We’d shake our heads. We did not know why. We did not know.

Styrofoam, sometimes you held rice or Miso soup or sides that were not requested in Seamless orders that were not really needed and made us feel slovenly. Styrofoam, when that quart of fresh watermelon juice was poured into you, could you taste its freshness, too? We hope you could.

Today may be the last day we see you before the city imposes a six-month grace period for vendors to begin transitioning to other materials, but we will honor you today by using you often and without remorse. Coffee, lunch, dinner, fourth meal. A little Styrofoam pillow for our heads. A Styrofoam Metrocard fashioned from trash scraps. You will not be banished from this concrete jungle without the sendoff you have earned.

Rest in peace, Styrofoam. See you in hell.

Image via Getty. Contact the author at dayna.evans@gawker.com.