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.