He Died Today
Summery: Remembering one who's gone.
He died today.
He wasn't supposed to be out there. Not anymore. He had taken to the desk, even though he despised sitting still for so long.
He died today.
He didn't die alone, people say I should be happy for that. That someone held his hand and told him he'd be okay.
He died today.
But I'm not. I don't want him to be gone. Besides, he would have known they were lying to him when they said he'd be just fine.
He died today.
He always had something to say, didn't matter the subject. He was never bashful, never afraid to speak. He always had to say something, and he was the King of the Comebacks.
He died today.
He died in an alley, just like he said he would when he thought I wasn't listening. The one who killed him ran away without even a second glance.
He died today.
He looked so still when they let me see him, so still, and lifeless, and all his spark was gone. I kept wishing he'd open his eyes, and I could see the sparkle in them, just one last time.
He died today.
I held his hand, so cold and heavy. I couldn't believe that he was gone.
He died today.
He was the one who taught me to ride a bike, without my training wheels. The one who read me stories into the night, who scared the monsters away when they came to fright. Who never let me date until I was sixteen, and even then he waited up, and flicked the porch light if I waited too long before coming in.
He died today.
He would never see his grandchildren, something I know he dearly wanted to do. He'd never walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, something I dearly wanted him to do.
He died today.
He'd never again argue over the price of a coffee with the vendors, or talk me through I problem. Even if it was the dumbest problem on earth, he'd still listen to me tell him about it.
He died today.
I'd never see him sitting at his desk again. I'd never hold his hand, and feel him hold mine. I'd never see him frustrated, and throwing paperwork at his door. I'd never see him happy, or sad, or disgusted, or anything anymore.
He died today.
I can see the casket, open at the front of the room. I can feel myself walk up to it, but it's like I'm not there, I'm not apart of it. I'm just an observer, I'm distant.
He died today.
I gazed into the casket. There he lay, lifeless, and cold. Not peaceful and serene like people do in the movies, or how you read about them in books. He was dead. Gone.
He died today.
He never believed the whole heaven idea. He said that when you were dead, you were dead, and that was that.
He died today.
I hear them tell me that he felt nearly no pain, that at least he wasn't alone. I want them to leave me alone. I want them to go away. He's gone.
He died today.
I didn't want him to go this way, and I know he didn't either. He told me that when he went, he wanted to go fighting, not bleeding at too early of an age.
He died today.
I miss him already. I'll never see his smile, or his frown, or the grin he got when he was about to do something silly, like the time he showed up at a family dinner with his hair streaked red. Thankfully, it was only a one wash treatment.
He died today.
He's gone. I know that. And he shouldn't be. He didn't deserve to die like this, not taking a shot from an addict who just wanted another fix.
He died today.
He died today.
He died today.
I love him. That will never change. He will never be forgotten. He will always be in my heart, and always in my mind. All I have are memories, and pictures, and the badge he was so proud of.
But he'll never be fully gone if I remember. And I will. I will remember. I will never forget.
Fini