mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

carry it along with you

This has been a long time coming:
After you died they made you an angel. I knew you weren't though; you were just a boy. I remember how you used to practice wrestling moves on me and once you put gum in my hair because I kicked you in the balls after you body-slammed me. When we rode the ferris wheel at the Fowlerville fair you used to rock the car back and forth so hard I thought I would throw up. You used to have this drum machine and I remember you beat-boxing and being proud of the recordings you made on your little Sony recorder. I don't remember much else except that you were my brother, my big brother, and when I saw your body laid out cold and covered in make-up, I said, "That's not Mikey. That isn't him." I don't know what you would have become; maybe you would have overcome the shitty hand you were dealt or maybe you would have settled down in Redford Township to become another factory worker like the rest of the men in our family. I found out a secret about you last week, twelve years after you died, but I'm trying hard to not let that matter. I'm trying to just remember us fishing in Walled Lake and walking to the candy store with our birthday money and I'm trying to remember that the three of us, the oldest grandkids, we used to be like siblings, once. Now you're gone and Nikki is hooked on who knows fucking what, and me? I get the be the successful one because I'm still alive and I have never faced addiction. I want to remember you the way I knew you then. I didn't cry at your funeral because I didn't understand but even if you would have lived to crash and burn, I would still love you like I did when I was six and you knew everything. Sleep sound cousin, brother.

12:46 a.m. - 2005-07-14

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next