Cemetery (written July 2016)

I went to the cemetery today to find you, but I never found you.

I found your sister, who isn’t even dead yet

I found your father, who died old

But you, I couldn’t find you.

You shouldn’t even be in that cemetery anyway

You should be here

(but I guess if you were here, I probably wouldn’t be here).

Maybe I didn’t want to find you, though, because it all would come crashing back to me:

The way I watched the life dwindle from your body

How I didn’t know what to say

How we were never that close

How I was going through a rough time myself when you died.

I don’t want to recall this pain. And I sure as hell don’t want to think about my own mortality.

Nonetheless

You are in that cemetery, somewhere, hopefully resting (and not roaming) until I find you.