Today is not an easy day. Our loss
is not any less two years after
your death.
You were there one day
gone the next.
No fault of your own.
Homicide, said the death certificate.
Battered by another was the cause of death.
The irony?
You were among friends when it happened, at a party next door someone, whose name shall never be repeated by me, took offense to something you said to him, or his girlfriend, they claim, and that someone followed you when you left their residence and clobbered you from behind.
When you fell, and collapsed, that someone fled the scene. Your friend called his own brother for assistance in moving you from the pavement to their house, where they let you sleep off whatever was wrong with you. They had no idea what was wrong with you.
You never woke up.
The next morning, the police was called, and you were declared dead.
Later in the week, the police arrested the culprit and held him on a million dollar bail.
The case is still open.
As is my wound.
We are still bleeding.
We are still waiting.
Nothing will change the fact that you are forever gone from our lives and we will miss you throughout our days.
