..the prettiest of wishes, like flowers, laid across your grave

I went to a memorial service the other day,
It felt like a high school reunion.
He was a good soul.
He fell through the cracks of everyone else's lives.
He was truly one made of light,
of all the good things I want to be someday.

In the end it didn't matter.

I wanted him to win.
He, above most others,
Was always worth that.

No one ever said any of this would be fair.

It was a beautiful service.
The images of an all too short life displayed on a projector.
A voice heard one last time,
Taken from a radio broadcast.
A captured moment in time,
Never repeated.

We smile. We laugh. It's like he is still here.
Except that it took a bullet to his brain
For most of us to take some time out of our more important and self-involved lives
To spend a moment with him.

I hear the stories about how he was always present,
Always caring, always loving.
Always selfless.

I wonder if that is why he didn't win.
Played with his own shadows for too long,
They showed him a few things.
At the end of the day,
He was loving and all alone.

He deserved better than we could provide.

This is no place for the good and virtuous.
We'll feed on you until we've had our fill.
When we're done we'll move on.
It's what we do.

I wish it wasn't like that.
This should have been a place for the dignified and honorable to grow,
Nourished like spring flowers after a long rain.
Not achingly reaching for a sun that we have been told lives above those threatening clouds,
Not grasping blindly in the dust and dirt for some sustainance.

It was never supposed to be like this.

We could talk all we want about the pretty things,
But when it comes down to taking time for that sacred moment,
Giving a good man like him a chance,
We have better things to do.

Don't we.

This has been rattling around in my dusty brain for weeks.
Came to a vicious conclusion two days ago.
Music has been flowing freely ever since about these things.
It took a death to inspire me again.
See?
I'm no better.

I feel terrible for his family,
His closest friends.
They are sweet, loving.
They loved him dearly.
They deserve some peace, some love.

The rest of us have no right to be there.
Maybe we do.
Stare it straight in the eye.
Maybe learn a thing or two.

I watch as it quickly turns into a reunion, drinking and chatting.
"It is what he would have wanted."
Perhaps.
I'm ready to go.
People from my past emerge.
They are chatty. I pretend to be.
It is good to see them, but not the place or time.

This time it should be about him.
The one who should have won.
But it never is, is it? At least not for long.
It just has to be about the rest of us..

It should be better than this.
It's time to go.