Sunshine

I wrote 'funeral - 11 am' at the top of my planner.

I couldn't write the name.

And 11 am didn't write his name either.
It wrote his personality and his gift and his hair,
oh that hair.
It was the casket and the attire and the program—
They screamed his name,    so we didn't have to.

Because no one should have to bury a little brother.

The choir left his space
and Spencer couldn't speak

and Chan did the missionary thing

No one should have to bury their little brother.

The Suits in the graveyard 

The cemetery packed with tears and tributes.

    God, this a warrior.

The car alarm that let us know Hunter attended his own funeral.
The man who couldn't let go of the casket.
And the way they stood together, like a broken family, missing the last thing they called home.

And they buried their little brother.

At 11 am the entire high school showed up to say goodbye to what they'd become.
but they haven't dug up the graves that line the lockers, yet.
They say he was depressed,
and they'll keep saying it to make themselves feel better.
Just more medicine that doesn't treat the right problem.
headaches on innocent minds that don't want an acceptance letter to the next four years.

We buried their little brother.

Go back to the support on a Sunday night
   paired with the mother who sobbed into a sharpie signed condolence.
Or jump ahead to the father with stress centered conversation the first week of December
   paired with a comment about ward choir and baked potatoes.



There's a Christmas tree going up in the Dahl home.
And they'd like anyone to bring by an ornament that represents him or simply a memory.
And with that hair,
 I expect all of you there.

They need us now more than ever.