Opening the box

Where am I? I feel so lost. I miss him. Miss seeing him. He was always home, so whenever I decided to come home there he was. He was not always pleasant to be around, but he was always around. Now his remains sit in a small clear bag, in a small black box with his name on it. That box sits it a green velvet bag. One day I was missing him so much I removed the box from the velvet bag and opened the box. My heart was racing because I didn’t know what I would see or how I would feel. I removed the clear plastic bag from the box and squeezed the bag. If I could I probably would have opened the bag to feel the sand like ashes in my hands. All I could think was, “this is all that is left.” I cried in pain. How could a personality, a person filled with hopes and dreams, a father, a husband, a brother, a son, a friend be reduced to what was held in my hands. Where are you?! I am alone. God, I am alone. All these years I dreaded, hoped, feared and even forgot that this day would come. Your body so filled with holes and scars from all of your surgeries. No more belly pats. No more scratching your back with a knife; which I hated by the way. No more anything. No more making yourself bust up until you went into a coughing fit; which I loved by the way. How ridiculous we could be sometimes. How over it we both seemed to be at the end. Just tired; both of us. The bitterness too much at times. We kicked and screamed because it was all so unfair. And no one understood. To be with you that last hour. To give you a hug before you left. I don’t wish you were here instead of there because frankly here sucks, but you knew that. I hope you are filled with all the things you lacked here. I miss you my friend.