Trains and Torn Cloth

Day of Dead

He has been lying there for hours on a hospital bed as doctors run tests to see if he could live. The sirens still linger in my head and the yelling of the paramedics are faint. I know he's dead. No doctor needs to tell me that. Though somehow I'm still hopeful for a miracle but miracles aren't real. And his life is in the paper I hold in my hand. The ink spread and stained the paper when my tears soaked it. Visitors come, some of them I had no idea who they were. At one point no one came and not even his parents came. His letter and his old words had told me everything. He told me why that when he's dead, they won't show. It's because he's already dead to them. Because they won't accept their own son even as he's lifeless in a casket while his boyfriend, me; is one of the only key people at his funeral. I could easily harass them till they come but they don't even deserve the call from the police or the hospital saint that their son is dead but they will still hear it.
                     *******
"Today we gather here..." The man goes on and on about how God loves him. And how he died and who he was. But that's not who he was. I looks around at the small amount of people here. There's some distant relatives with two kids, and a group of boys and girls around the dead man's age. Three guys and two ladies all standing together. The guys are crying and shaking and one especially. He stands in the middle staring down, he brings his hand to his face and his furthest fingers to his temples to try to cover up his sobbing. I recognised him. His brown hair. His back and shoulders jump and shook as he sobbed and the others in silent tears rub his arm and head. "Would anyone like to say a few words?" The man asks looking around about to give up his step. I raise my hand and he nods in acknowledgement. I work my way to the stand which was hardly anything. "Most of you should know why there's hardly anyone here. Why there's not many family. He was a great guy. And... I hate to see a life go to waste like this... I understand though. I understand him and it wasn't anyone's fault. But there are things that effect people greatly. Positive and negatively, greatly. He was an angel. I lived waking up to him. And the sound of his voice and when he'd laugh..." I can't stop my voice from wavering and I cough. I look up at the people and see his parents and his little brother standing there. My heart stopped. "And why would someone do something so negative to this poor kid no matter how scary it must be.. he was only 24. 24... I was lucky enough to be there with him through this for years but I hate that it ended like this.... But, it did and there's no way we can blame ourselves. He was always like he was as far as I'm concerned. Happy. Excited about life. And so very optimistic but there are times in life where you are hanging on by a thread and it's enough to keep you hanging but you don't want to hang and it seems like there's no way out. He cut that thread because he was hanging for years. And I comforted him in his darkest times and I was there for some of his brightest. And that bright will always stay with me wherever I go. I loved him to death. And to death it'll be." My jaw hurt from the amount of clenching I did to keep myself from bawling and I step down.