Thirteen Years


Sometimes I am scared that I will forget your face. Or your voice. Or how exactly you sounded when you said, “Hey, Kris.”

Sometimes I am scared of forgetting how beautiful your life was.

Sometimes I am scared of a world that goes on when you are gone.

I am scared of the eighteenth year, which means it will all be equal – the amount of time you lived, the amount of time you’ve been gone.

I am scared of my wavering belief in God, in Good, in Hope.

Here’s what we put on your tombstone:

“I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself.” – Exodus 19:4

Here’s what you might say to me, to calm my fears and give me peace:

“I come home from the soaring

in which I lost myself. 

I was song, and the refrain which is God

is still roaring in my ears.

Now I am still 

and plain:

no more words.

To the others I was like a wind:

I made them shake. 

I’d gone very far, as far as the angels, 

and high, where light thins into nothing.

But deep in the darkness is God . . . .” 

(Rainer Maria Rilke, Love Poems to God)

I love and miss you, Will!



  1. Elizabeth Dukes says:

    I absolutely love your words here, I think we all feel this way when we lose someone close to us. Keep your memories close, and remember your brother is looking down on you and God is taking care of you!

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