Dear Mr. Sir,
Today is the day
That is seven months
After the day of his death.

Dear Mr. Sir,
Today is the day,
That everything finally hits me
In a speeding tornado.

I finally cry,
Realize he's gone,
And that he was still so young.
I finally break,
The fracture was always there,
But now it's finally busted.

I read the words of his father,
About taking smiles and laughs for granted.
I know his pain, I've known it for almost a year,
Though it's been in the dark.

It'd been five years since I had seen him.
Five years since we had laughed together.
But somehow, knowing he's gone,
Makes it seem like a life time.

At first, I wanted to forget.
I wanted to forget that I ever knew him.
All the memories, all the days spent running around,
Like trouble-making hooligans,
Just to forget the pain.

But then I knew that if I forgot him,
I'd forget his -and my- family.
His dad, so close to me, he was almost mine too;
Or atleast my uncle.
His mom, my surrogate mother, and nothing less than that.
His sister, who could have been mine.

I loved him.
No, I still love him.
I always will.

I can't remember the sound of his voice, which troubles me.
But I remember how blue his eyes were,
How his cheekbones pointed his smile to the sky,
competing with it for size.
I remember how his laugh boomed,
chasing the wind.
I remember how his hugs were crushing,
And always felt like home.
I remember just about everything,
And that's all that matters.

So now that I'm writing this,
I don't know if I'm saying hello or goodbye,
But I do know I'm saying that I remember,
And that's all that matters.