Last time I felt you was the day of your wake. I slid a note in your suit pocket near your heart and I wrote to you while trying to fight the urges to cry, trying to thank you in the most appropriately way. It’s my attempt every day since that moment to try to peel the memories of these last hours we breathed synchronized and remember the times when you taught the young boy in me. It’s a feat that comes with immense challenge because I have noisy memories of that day when your casket was concealed with plastic and sealed, making the distance between you and I even greater. You were raised that day in the mausoleum and hidden behind a piece of tile that wore your name and numbers that are still imprinted in me like my own genes. Still to this day, I come back to this place and look up to you like I always did, recalling the words I wrote to you and though my eyes water up while I sit there recollecting myself, just know I am just celebrating everything you brought me, everything taught me, and everything you still have yet to give me.
Day 25 – New Beginnings – 451press
