Justin's Obituary

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The first time I touched a dead body it was still warm
And I understood pretty words don't plan funerals
Phonetic phrases don't hold hands
Hospital walls are sturdy enough to swallow cries
And punches
Leave us with bruised knuckles and broken hearts
My brother lay across a stretcher
Like a loaf of bread and we stood
Around him a twisted episode
Of the last supper

My sister kissed him goodbye
His dad beat on his chest
That mimicked their last chance at CPR
My brother lost his life
When he was 19 years old
We buried him in silence
Didn't raise much hell
But his dad has cried every night since
Managed to write letters
On the rims of beer cans
The yard is littered in rough drafts
Mom spends most of her days
In haze. A maze Lost
Somewhere between facebook rants
And stirring pots of nothing

The first time I touched a dead body
he still had dirt in his hair
his cut, still bleeding
Hands shredded by gravel
He was alive an hour before
I memorized all the facial features of too late
My tears welled up
In right angles where a face met asphalt
They say losing your voice is like when you're having a nightmare
Your screams are carried away in the wind
That night a terror I wasn't allowed to wake up from
That was the first time it hurt to stay silent
My stomach was a figure eight knot
I thought maybe I could write a PSA about not driving drunk
About wearing good gear while riding

About slowing down
Or speeding up
Or dark back roads
But I settled on the first time I stared an obituary in his face
We cut off three dreads in hopes of keeping him in our memories
Broke bread... some could say
But we made sure to take from the back of his head because we didn't want God to forget his face
The first time I touched a dead body
Was the first time I touched mortality
Was the first time I realized people you know can die before you find the courage to tell them you care
That you can touch
What's left of a spirit
That letting go is tangible and intangible
They whispered a riot over my brothers bones
And I don't know if there are enough letters for me to tell you about the last time I held his hand
Smooth and honest and real
The last time I touched a dead body I stuffed a snickers bar in his right pocket
And left a letter in his ear

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