Eat shit, Vecna

My brother died six months ago.

I look at the calendar

and

I blink a few times.

It’s been six months?

Funny,

I never noticed six months

while he was alive;

I never wondered where he was

or what he might have thought;

had he ever heard of Uada?

What about Blood Incantation?

Had he seen Stranger Things?

I wonder what he’d think

if he knew

Max and Nancy

are my favourites

and if he would understand

how much I cry now

whenever I see anything

about anyone and their brothers,

about conversations that haven’t happened 

and conversations that can’t happen.

I wonder if he’s floating around somewhere.

I wonder what he would think

about my attempts to improve my handwriting.

Maybe he would have laughed.

It always felt good

to get a laugh out of him;

but,

I remember twenty years where it didn’t happen

and where I didn’t think about it happening.

Funny all the stuff I remember

over six months, though.