Meraki

Six Years

I do not remember

your voice

the conversations we had

the stories we shared.

I do not remember.

I was too young

too fragile.

But I remember

the sound of the police car pulling into the driveway.

I remember how many inches my father's feet were from eachother as he talked to the officer.

I remember him stepping into my Tinker Bell bedroom and telling me

that you

were dead.

I remember rushing to the bathroom

slamming the door

crouching my tiny body on top of the closed toilet seat

gasping

screaming crying

wishing it was me that went to heaven instead.

I remember hugging my sister.

I remember running outside a full sixty minutes later when my mother got off work.

I remember telling her what had happened to her very own son

the shock in her face

her holding me so tightly.

I remember your friends coming to the house

asking for a piece of your clothing or a photograph.

I remember the service at your highschool where they brushed past the fact that you were the most magnificent blessing I had ever encountered.

I remember the priest that spoke bullshit words about the deceased boy he never even knew.

I remember every

single

detail.

Speaking to multiple news stations

as if news that my brother had drowned on a camping trip with his friends was something to be excited about and that the whole town needed to know of it.

That blue checkered flannel of yours that was ten sizes too big for my young body

I wore it for four weeks straight because it smelled of your cologne.

The sunglasses I wore when I finally returned to school

because I didn't want my peers seeing my sleep deprived eyes

and the tears streaming from my face.

The way every single popular girl at recess ran up to me

hugging me

apologizing for my loss

as if that made the healing hurt any less.

I remember the smell of your coffin.

The way I fell to the ground

when I saw your cold lifeless body lying there

in that cushioned brown box.

The way I still have not healed

even after six

long

years.

I miss you.

There is so much pain here.

There is so much loss here.

And I wish I could remember the good things.

I wish you did not leave

brother.

-C.D.