You should have been here.
You should have been thirty-four.
You should been unable to take my call: spending the time with your wife. Your son. A daughter- though she couldn’t lay eyes on you just yet.
I should have heard a story from my brother – making me jealous I missed another hangout session; or rather, jealous of whatever spirit was ingested during a celebration.
Instead, it’s a spirit I can only remember.
By now I should know what to call you – besides Mikey.
Instead: I know F (or L?) a bit. I know C. I kind of know S. I should know them better. I hope. Just as I hope I did a good enough job listening and knowing who you are…
…because some questions still haven’t been answered. You know I’m patient – sometimes too much so. I wait. I hope.
Maybe I’m here because I still have to try helping as many as you have. If it can ever be counted.
I’m happy for what I ha[d]ve with you.
People say to celebrate. Not mourn. I’m trying.





