my cousin had moved in with us and lived with us for a couple months. we got him back on his feet and he decided to go back to metropolis (where he lived before). about a week or two after he left, we got a phone call. he committed suicide /: this is for him. holding on to every word hellos, goodbyes, and praises the memory of you remains your hopeful and inspiring phrases hidden sadness in your soul you never let us see the pain that you were feeling or your insecurities you left appearing happy but i guess you really weren't i guess if you could do that, then you must have really hurt we miss you and we love you and i had to let you know while your body may be gone, your impact will never go
In Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaughterhouse-Five, theres these aliens, the Tralfamadorians, that see in all directions of time, so they see one continuous line from someone's brith to their death. They didnt really mourn their dead, because they knew they would always have the time spent with the deceased, and the memories between them. They weren't really gone, just somewhere else in time.. Good Po-em!
Very sorry for your loss. Your poem is brimming with all the emotions you're feeling from his death, and I can feel it all just reading it. I nearly cried. Thank you. And as Drew paraphrased from Kurt Vonnegut, he's not gone. He's just somewhere else in time. Stay strong.
