dear porter,

(**i wrote this a year ago, but for some reason or another, i never posted it. today marks 2 years since my little brother left us, but the feelings are still the same.)

it was exactly one year ago,
today,
that we lost you.
that our lives changed forever.
that a giant, gaping hole opened up in our hearts.
and i find myself re-living every moment.
the phone call from mom.
crying so hard on the kitchen floor
that i couldn't breathe.
making phone calls to delta for the first flight out of boston.
standing in the longest line known to man at the airport
avoiding the awkward glances of people staring at me
because i just couldn't stop sobbing.
mom and dad's faces when they opened the front door
that confirmed the whole thing wasn't a crazy dream.
spending a week in a whirlwind,
planning a funeral and viewing,
going through your things.
saying goodbye.
although, i still don't think i've fully said it.
because i still can't believe you're gone.

it's hard not to get angry sometimes.
i hate that we've had to live a whole year without you.
i hate that miles doesn't know you.
that you missed his first steps.
that he will never have cousins from you.
i'm so sick of having giant meltdowns
every time something reminds me of you.
and i do,
i get angry.
and i know that would probably bother you,
but i can't help but feel like it just isn't right.
it's not right that we have to miss you this much.

i will be watching the sky tonight.
because i want to know
what your last sunset looked like.
and i will be visiting dry canyon
because i want to know
what your last breath smelled like.
what the air around you felt like.

love you.

dear porter,

last week
we received a card in the mail.
a thank you card.
from some anonymous person
who received a donation
from you.
a tendon for their knee.
which made it possible for them
to have full use of their leg restored.

it's hard to believe that there is someone
out there
walking around with your tendon
in their knee.
i like knowing that a part of you
is still living,
moving,
and functioning...

christmas was supposed to be different this year.
my first christmas home in 3 years.
i was so excited to be with everyone again.
christmas will definitely be different.
but not in the way i hoped.
mom was going through the ads
last sunday
and broke down
at the thought that there would be
no boxers this year.
no white t-shirts.
no music gadgets.
that we would never be buying you
another christmas gift.

and while i was picking out t-shirts
for cooper and jordan,
i didn't even have to double check myself.
i automatically knew i needed to buy 2.
not 3.
and usually i have to remind myself
that 3 is one too many.
but this time,
it was normal.
without a thought.
which, i think means,
i'm getting used to the idea
that you really are gone.
and i don't like it.

everyone told us that time would heal us.
make it easier.
make us feel better.
but i beg to differ.
we aren't healed.
we don't feel better.
there is a lingering sadness
that follows us everywhere we go
all day.
time isn't healing us.
it's just teaching us how to wake
up every single day and
keep moving.
the pain is still there.
we are just getting better at dealing with it.

i miss you little brother.
merry christmas.

dear porter,

"if only i don't
bend and break,
i'll meet you on the other side.
i'll meet you in the light."
-keane

love you.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdJvEDaLXfc

dear porter,

you were born on this day,
nineteen years ago.
it was friday the 13th.
mom said there was a bat loose in the hospital's hallway.
if i were superstitious,
i would say that was a bad sign of things to come.
but i'm not superstitious.
so it's just funny.
we used to tease you for being born on such a creepy day.

i spent the morning looking at pictures of you.
it is so very strange to see you staring back at me
and looking so very alive.
and every single picture i have to remind myself that you aren't here anymore.
and i wonder when it's going to feel real.
because 6 months seems like a long time for something to settle in
and make itself cozy in my mind.

this is your first birthday without you here.
we wanted to make it special.
so we sort of just celebrated all weekend.
we hiked up to your mountain on saturday.
we all ate breakfast burritos in the parking lot
before we headed up the trail.
cooper carried a rock that says
"in loving memory of porter
'somewhere only we know'"
of course, referring to keane.
we put it at the base of the cliff.
and then at the top we all talked about you.
funny memories and stories.
you were quite the character.

tonight,
ask for the future played a concert in our backyard.
in your honor.
it was the first time i got to see them play.
it was also the last.
they aren't playing together anymore.
i wish so badly that i had gotten to see you in a show.
but this was almost just as good.
sam squared played your bass.
and i couldn't really look at him without crying.
they are all such nice guys.
you had such genuine people in your life.
probably because you were so genuine yourself.
they wrote a song for you.
and they started it by singing a keane song.
and i hope you got to be here.

oh and we all wrote you love letters on balloons
and sent them up to heaven.
i hope they made it.

i'm really glad we got to stop and remember you again.
because sometimes i think we are just expected to carry on like normal.
and so we do.
only it's a new kind of "normal"
a "normal" where every day feels like something is missing.
but if it were really up to us,
we would celebrate you like this every weekend.
but the neighbors might start to wonder what was wrong with us.

in the words of your friend tyler,
"happy birthday porter. this day is still yours."
this day truly will always be yours.
sometimes i miss you so much it hurts.

love you.

dear porter,

hi little brother.
i'm finally home.
2 long years and i'm finally back.
i've waited a long time for this,
for the whole family to be together again.
i looked forward to the day for so long.
you were supposed to be here.
so now it's just bittersweet.
and the house can be full of people,
but it still feels empty.

miles is moving into your room.
we will probably put his clothes in your dresser.
but i feel weird about it.
i don't want to take your clothes out.
i don't want to rearrange your closet.
i don't want to move your things.
i want them to stay right where you left them.


we had family dinner last night.
the first time since you died that i think
we all finally sat down at the kitchen table together.
a kitchen table with 6 chairs.
one for each of us.
only the chair next to me was empty.
and after we all started eating,
mom looked up and looked at the chair next to me.
and we all had a quiet moment
and cried a little
and wondered if you were maybe there sitting next to me.

we found a video on the computer of you playing the bass.
as i was watching it, i got so upset.
you had such amazing talent.
you were really going somewhere with your music.
and it all just seems so...
wasted?
unfair?

mom was listening to it this morning and it was on sort of loud.
i could hear it from the other room
and for a split second, life felt normal again.
because i really believed it was you in the other room playing.
and i really believed that it was your bass rumbling through the walls.
but then the realization hits that it's not.
and its like losing you all over again.

we took miles up to see your headstone.
its the first time i've seen it since it was put in.
i let miles scoot all over it.
i know you wouldn't mind.
in fact, i think you would've liked to see him so happy
in such a sad place.

its been over 4 months
and we still miss you more everyday.
its hard to move on when
we can't stop thinking about you.

love you.

dear porter,

it's memorial day.
a day we are supposed to remember our lost, loved ones.
but i guess that makes everyday memorial day for me.

your headstone is all done.
i've only seen pictures.
i would be there at the cemetery to see it,
to visit you, if i could.
give grandpa a hug for me.
i'll be thinking of you guys.

i dreamed about you the other day.
you were wearing miles' helmet
and doing his sniffing-face-tantrum.
and i laughed and laughed.
and you kept going to leave
but i begged you to stay just a little longer.
so you did.
please come again soon.

love you.

dear porter,

it's been 2 months, today.

i took this picture the day you died.
probably about 4 hours before.
i had just gotten miles's new bumbo in the mail.
and i brushed his hair in a comb-over and i thought it was funny.
i think a lot about that day.
how it could have been just like any other day.
it was just like any other day.

i hung out all afternoon at home with miles.
we had some errands to run.
and we needed to go out to walmart in quincy,
but we waited for wade to come home.
i remember i was kind of grumpy that evening.
not like a mean grumpy,
just a little moody.
but not really sure why.

on our way to walmart,
we passed a taco bell.
wade and i were starving,
so we decided to stop and eat real quick.
i remember an old lady
eating all by herself.
and i felt so bad for her.
and i wondered if her husband had died.
and i wanted to go sit with her.
but i felt dumb, so i didn't.
i should have.
then miles dropped his binky on the dirty floor.
and a bunch of annoying teenagers came in.
and i was in a hurry to leave.

and during that time, you had fallen.
as i sat there eating a quesadilla,
you were laying at the base of a cliff.
my little brother,
lifeless.
and i was in a taco bell.
and i didn't know.

then we waited in long lines at walmart.
it was way busy.
and we had to return something.
so we waited for like a half hour.
and the whole time i waited in that line,
you were already gone.
the whole time i looked at mini-muffin tins,
and diapers,
and baby socks,
and malt-o-meal cereal.
stupid things that don't matter.
(ok, maybe the diapers mattered...}
but it just bugs me so much,
that i carried on my normal routine,
not knowing.

mom called me at midnight that night.
i had already gone to bed at 10,
which was weird for me.
i didn't answer my phone when she called.
wade finally answered because he was still up.
he woke me up and handed me the phone.
and all i heard was panic.
i told mom to do cpr.
it was the only thing that came to my mind.
i told her to do cpr over and over.
and she just kept saying she couldn't.
and she said, "please call grandma."
and i was left to cry.
harder than i've ever cried in my life.
so hard i couldn't breathe.
and i asked wade to pray.
i told him to pray and ask for a miracle.
ask for you to be ok.
we both know you're ok.
just not the kind of ok i was hoping for.

i wonder if you watched us.
if you saw us in pain.
if you saw us crying
and hurting that day.
i wonder if, even in your happy state,
you still felt a little bit sad for us.
sad for what we were feeling.
sad that you weren't with us anymore.
and i wonder if you miss us.
or if you are so close
that you don't need to miss us
and we just don't realize it.

love you.

dear porter,

i just walked into the room
to hear a song wade was listening to
playing on the computer.
it was keane (hamburg song).
your favorite band.
and i broke down.
and wade let me cry on his shoulder
while we listened to the rest of it together.
the words hit hard.
but probably not in a way the song was meant for.

i remember all those times
i heard keane music
blaring out of the computer speakers,
blaring out of the car speakers,
blaring out of your cd player,
and i remember all those times
i told you to turn it down,
turn it off.
because keane annoyed the heck out of me.
because i heard it so much.
but now, i wish i could hear it blaring
out of anything of yours.
it reminds me of you.
and i'll never stop listening to it.

remember that time you came to walmart with me?
and you begged me to buy you the new coldplay cd, x&y?
and i was surprised.
i don't know why...
you just seemed so young.
too young to care about music.
but i bought it for you anyway.
and i think around that time,
you started to discover your musical talents.
and we started to realize just how good you really were.
and you dreamed of being famous,
of making it big one day.
there is no doubt in my mind that
you would have.

i talked to mom yesterday.
she's been reading a book
about the spirit world.
and she told me how close you really are.
and wade gave me a blessing last night.
he said that you loved me.
that you were so happy.
that you loved what you were doing.
but you were excited to be with us again.
i know you're here.
but it just feels like you're only half way here.
does that make sense?

sometimes i wish i would have known.
had time to prepare,
had time to say good-bye.
but i maybe think it was better this way.
i just wish i still had your texts in my phone.
the rest of the family does.
locked and safe.
the very day you died,
i was deleting my old text messages,
and i scrolled past yours
and had a strong impression to not delete them.
of course i brushed it off.
of course i thought to myself,
why would i keep these?
and of course,
i'm kicking myself.

i've been thinking a lot lately about our "lasts"
you know, texts, hugs, phone calls...
and i am so grateful i came to utah in january.
it was just a whim.
just a silly whim.
a funny surprise to show up on the doorstep.
but what if i hadn't?
you wouldn't have met miles.
you wouldn't have shared in-n-out fries with me.
you wouldn't have thrown miles's diaper away at the gas station
for me, even though it disgusted you to touch it.
you wouldn't have shown me your band's music while i sat on your bedroom floor.
you wouldn't have asked me where you could buy a cool plaid shirt.
you wouldn't have stayed up late with me, cracking jokes and goofing off.
you wouldn't have watched the biggest loser with me and made fun of it the whole time.
i wouldn't have any "last" memories...
because i wouldn't remember the last time i saw you.

but i remember because you drove me to the airport with mom.
january 22nd.
probably around 11pm.
and you sat in the front seat.
and when we pulled up to the curb,
you got out to hug me.
and that was it.

anyway, little brother,
i still miss you.
i think about you everyday.
we all do.

love you.

hamburg song
by keane

i don't want to be adored
i don't want to be first in line or make myself heard
i'd like to bring a little light
to shine a light on your life
and make you feel love

no, don't wanna be the only one you know
i wanna be the place you call home

i lay myself down, to make it so
but you don't want to know
i give much more
than i'd ever ask for

will you see me in the end?
or is it just a waste of time?
trying to be your friend?
just shine, shine, shine,
shine a little light
shine a light on my life
and warm me up again.

i wonder if you know yourself at all.
you know that it could be so simple.

i lay myself down, to make it so
but you don't want to know
you take much more
than i'd ever ask for

say a word or two to brighten my day
do you think that you could see it your way?

to lay yourself down, to make it so
but you don't want to know
you take much more
than i'd ever ask for

dear porter,

on saturday morning,
i woke up early in your bed.
really early.
so we could catch a flight to boston.
your flight to boston.

i took a shower in your bathroom.
i packed up all my stuff in your room.
and i couldn't help thinking that it should be you doing this.
not me.
i should've been waiting for you in boston.

when the flight took off,
i looked out the window and saw the runway speeding past.
and i looked at mom and saw tears running down her face.
you never got to fly.
this was supposed to be your first time.
and i tried to imagine what you would've been thinking
during your first take-off.

general conference was this weekend.
i wonder if you watch it in heaven?
pres. monson wrote a talk just for us.
at least, i think he did.
it was so comforting to hear a prophet tell us
we will see you again.

easter was different this year.
it meant more to us than it ever has before.
Christ's atonement and resurrection are the reason
you will once again be reunited with your body.
and i cannot wait until that day.
to run to you and hug you and never let go.
i can't imagine a more joyful reunion.

love you.

"Among all the facts of mortality, none is so certain as it's end. Death comes to all. It is our universal heritage. It may claim its victims in infancy or youth. It may visit in the period of life's prime. It's summons may be deferred until the snows of age have gathered upon the head. It may befall as the result of an accident, or disease, or through natural causes. But, come it must. It inevitably represents the painful loss of association. And particularly, in the young, a crushing blow to dreams unrealized, ambitions unfulfilled, and hopes vanquished."

-President Thomas S. Monson

(Sunday AM session)

dear porter,

we did it.
we waited until the snow melted,
and we went to face your mountain.
my stomach hurt when we pulled into the parking lot
as i looked up at the cliff and pictured you standing up there.
and then pictured you falling.
which i really shouldn't have done.
but i couldn't help myself.

dave and brian came with us,
which made it a lot easier.
we hiked to the base of the cliff
where dad found you.
i wanted to stop everyone that passed us on the trail,
even though they were strangers.
i wanted to tell them what happened here.
i wanted them to know that it was a special place.
it didn't seem right for them to pass on by,
never knowing.

we searched everywhere for your shoe
and your glasses.
especially your glasses.
for some reason, it was so important to us to find them.
they were the last things you were wearing.
a small piece of you.

we almost gave up ever thinking we would find them.
there was so much brush
and so many rocks.
so much junk...
waterbottles,
trash,
tv's and scrap metal?
people who threw them off the cliff
as a joke.
its funny how you view things after something like this happens.

dad found your shoe first.
maybe 50 feet from where your body was.
how did it get that far?
maybe i don't want to know the answer to that.
but we were so glad it was still there.

we finally gave up on the glasses.
we thought they would be in a million little pieces.
glasses don't survive a fall like that.
just as we were about to leave,
dad glanced down,
and there they were.
in one piece.
a miracle, right up against the cliff wall.
our only logical conclusion is that they fell off
before you landed.
we will never know what really happened that day.
but miracles don't need logic.

a friend of yours shared a conversation she had with you

it was one you had on instant messenger.

ironically, about death.

and she had saved it on her computer,

back in august 2009.

you had dreamed you were dying

and you had been reading about the life after this one.

you told her you thought it would be a 

"peaceful beautiful thing."

that you believed family and friends greet you on the other side

and take you to a perfect place,

and that

"living here is only a tiny part of our huge adventure."

we can't wait to continue that adventure with you.

love you. 

dear porter,

for some reason,
i thought your funeral would mean the end of my letters.
i thought i would feel better.
i thought i could continue on living like normal.
but i don't feel normal.
i feel worse.
i feel empty.

today was beautiful and sunny.
i went on a drive with baby miles
and i rolled the windows down.
the breeze felt good
after a long cold winter.
and i wished you were with me.

i had plans to drive up to the canyon.
i looked up at the cliffs all day
and debated.
but in the end,
i just couldn't do it.
i'm not ready to face them yet.
but i am determined to not let them scare me.

i find myself staring at your facebook profile
it is the last connection i have with you.
when new pictures are posted by your friends,
i just cry.
the last thing i wrote on your wall was on feb 28,
"its almost march!
which means you'll be here in like a month! 
yayyyyY!!!!!!!!"
and you said,

"Yay I can't wait! We are going to party! :)"

little did we know what march would bring.

i was so looking forward to that party...

we have moments of happiness

but they are fleeting.

far and few between.

i feel like the whole world should stop

and just wait for us to get back on our feet.

pause for a minute

while we figure out how to live without you.

cooper had a dream about you yesterday.

we were all in a room.

and you showed up.

and we knew that you had passed away.

and cooper asked you if you remembered falling.

and you said you did,

but you watched it all happen.

from outside of your body.

and i'm taking that as an answer to my prayers

and running with it.

it gives me some relief.

lost is on tonight.
you spent a week trying to catch up.
and when you finally did,
we had lots to talk about.
but we were both still so confused.
and you texted me the week you died,
and said, "i think lost is a scam.
when it's over, the producers are going to say
we called it lost because we were confused too."
and for some reason
it really really bothers me that you'll never get to finish it.
which makes it so hard for me to watch.
i feel a little guilty.

one more thing-
i just know that you would get a kick out of miles's hair.

and i can hear you laughing

and picture you holding his little fingers

and teasing him about his tight grip.

oh i wish he could remember it.

but i remember it.

and i will tell him about you.

everyday.

love you.

dear porter,

today was your funeral.
our close little family went really early.
just the 7 of us.
we all stood around your body one last time.

we tucked your guitar pick between your fingers.
right where it belongs.
and we wrote you a letter and put it in your hands.
i held miles up so he could see.
i told him you were his uncle porter.
i told him that you loved him.
and he looked right at you for a long time,
with his very concerned and honest face.
i like to believe that he knows.

we closed your casket for the viewing today.
we thought it would be best.
but we put your picture on top of it.
the one your best friend brian took of you,
when you guys hiked above bridal veil falls.
and that's how we want people to remember.

your funeral service was full of laughter and tears.
it was a celebration of your life.
your brothers and I felt no nervousness over speaking,
though our tears may have made our vision a little cloudy.
we felt so much love for you.
and it was you that helped us through it.

dad and i already went back to your grave today after the services were over.
just to check up on you and make sure everything was in order.
it gave us closure to know right where you were resting.
and to see those beautiful white flowers marking your place.

i got to hear the song you wrote today.
the one i never got to hear you play.
we found it on the computer.
mom said you thought the lyrics were genius,
(in your humble and joking way)
and i have to admit,
you are right.

we talked for a few hours again tonight.
i will treasure the conversations we have about you,
because sometimes we get goosebumps.
and sometimes one of us will feel you close by.
and then we share it with each other
and we just feel peace.
but we also laugh.
and that's what you would have wanted.
and that's what we would be doing if you were here.

sometimes we analyze your accident over and over until our heads hurt.
you weren't even close to the edge.
but there were skid marks in the snow.
and we just wonder
what if you had better shoes on?
what if it hadn't snowed?
what if you had turned around just a few minutes earlier?
what if someone had been with you?
and then it turns to what if God just wanted you back?
what if you were too perfect for this earth?

we know where you are, little po po.
and we know what you're doing.
and that makes it a little easier.
we will see your face again,
healed and whole and perfect.
and i hope you're holding a guitar.

this is all, for now.
but i will never stop writing to you.
thinking of you.
remembering you.
or missing you.
you are forever my little brother.

love you.

dear porter,

can i just say that i miss you?
our house seems too quiet.
there used to be 6 of us (8, if you count wade and miles)
and now there is only one less person.
so why does it seem like our family is so small?
how long until we stop looking around and wondering who is missing?

the funeral home has had your body since saturday.
when we last talked to them,
they said we would probably need to do a closed casket viewing.
your poor little body was just too broken up.
but they said we could see you,
if we wanted to.
we debated.
we worried.
we didn't want our last memory of you to be that hard.
but we didn't want to not know.

when we got to the funeral home today,
your casket was already open.
you looked so good, they didn't have to close it.
i'm so happy they were able to fix you.

i met the guys in your band.
they already knew who miles was.
they said you always talked about him.
it made me cry
because miles will never know you in this life.

there is so much left that i wish i could've said to you.
so much more to do.
you were supposed to come see me in boston in a month.
we already bought your plane ticket.

i think that tomorrow will be the hardest day of my life.
i never, ever, thought that i would have to bury my little brother,
especially at the age of 18.
i'm not ready to say goodbye.

love you.

dear porter,

today we went to the cemetery and picked your plot.
we picked one for mom and dad too,
so you won't be alone up there.
we tried to pick one on the hill
because we know how much you enjoy the view.
i hope you like it.

we had to gather the clothes we wanted you to be buried in.
mom and i picked your green tie, your white shirt, and your brown pants.
they are the clothes you wore for my wedding.
we took them downstairs and layed them out in the living room.
i took pictures so we could always remember.
and while i was taking pictures,
i looked up to see mom crying.
she felt you close by.
you told her, "that's good, mom. i like it."

all the funeral arrangements have been made.
the musicals are prepared.
you are going to love them.
now we just have to muster up the courage to speak.
but you are our brother
and we would never forgive ourselves if we didn't.

dad and i decided that we want to go on your favorite hike,
the one that took you away from us.
we want to find your other shoe,
the one they never found.
and maybe your glasses.
but they gave us your chapstick,
the one that was in your pocket.
burt's bees, of course.

we sent your obituary in to the newspaper.
we were all a little disappointed in how it turned out.
only because there is so much to say about you
but no way to put it into words.

love you.

dear porter,

today was really, really hard.

we went to the funeral home to make arrangements.
we had to choose your casket.
we all just cried while we looked at the choices.
it didn't seem right.
but i think you will like the one we picked.
it's brown, to match the outdoors.

i came down the stairs to see mom folding your laundry.
she washed the last batch today.
she set your jeans on top of the pile
and we wondered what to do with all your clothes.

mom and i went through all your scrapbooks today.
we were picking pictures for your slideshow.
and we remembered the time when you were 6 and you saved up all your money.
you bought your very own foam airplane.
and you were so excited you could barely talk.
and we watched the home video over and over and over again.
and we laughed.
a lot.

we all hung out in your room last night until 3 am.
we looked through your phone.
we thought about who had talked to you last and at what time.
we found all your old pictures,
there were some of your favorite hike,
and one of an orange you had peeled to look like a smiley face
then we pulled out the things in your nightstand
and cried at the goals you had written down for yourself,
and the check that you never cashed.

someone in mom and dad's new ward drew an amazing picture of you.
we can't believe how much it looks like you.
we put it right where we can see it, all the time.
it's just perfect.

any minute now, i feel like you are going to come home.
we are missing you
but don't worry about us.
we have a lot of wonderful people taking care of us.

love you.

 

(pastel by elspeth young)

dear porter,

don't worry about us starving anytime soon.
we have lots of food.
and more keeps coming.
believe me, you would be in heaven.
well, you already are.
speaking of which, i hope you still get to eat your favorite beto's breakfast burritos.
it just wouldn't be heaven for you without them.

lots of cute girls were at the house today.
cute girls that were so lucky to have you as a friend.
they were all sitting on the couch and crying.
but also laughing.
because you were so funny.
and they have such good memories.

your band had a gig tonight.
they didn't cancel the show,
but instead, they did an acoustic set in honor of you.
we all wish we could've gone,
but couldn't seem to leave the house.
because this is where we feel you the closest.
but those cute girls i just mentioned said they would record it for us.
i hope you got to see it too.

i also borrowed your chapstick.
the new burt's bees you had sitting in your nightstand.
mom said i could have it.
but i couldn't bear to throw the box away that it was in.
i told mom i might turn into one of those hoarders
like the show on a&e
because i feel guilty getting rid of anything that reminds me of you.

i just walked past the computer room
almost expecting you to be sitting here at the desk
because that's where you were always sitting
every night when i would tell you "good night"
and today, wade was standing on the stairs
and mom glanced up and thought it was you for a second.
and we all started crying.
because it wasn't you.
and we wished so badly that it was.

i'm sleeping in your bed tonight.
i hope you don't mind.

love you.

dear porter,

mom called me late last night with the news.

i play it in my mind over and over.
you hike every day. its what you love.
but did it feel different this time?
what were you thinking about when you spent that time alone with your thoughts?

dad found your water bottle before anything else.
there were scuff marks all over it.
and they hoped it wasn't yours.
now it sits on our counter in the kitchen.
it still has some water in it.
i don't think we will ever pour it out.

mom is wearing your sweatshirt today.
and we've been talking about our favorite memories.
like how you made the best peanut butter cookies.
and how you just wrote a song that I will never get to hear you play.

i worry what your last moments were like.
i hope you weren't in pain.
i hope you didn't feel extreme terror for the seconds you were falling.
i like to believe that you felt peace.
and love.
and comfort.
like we feel right now.

aunt monica said she saw you last night.
she said you were with grandpa. and you were smiling.
and i just know you two are having a good time up there.
but can you come visit me too?

love you.