When you die.
We’re going to cry because we’re never going to talk to you or take pictures with you again.
We’ll put up your pictures and eulogise you, our hearts will write out dirges that our mouths dare not sing.
We will go to your social media pages and look for what might mimic your current mood or look in death and set camp there. We will write it there, "Rest in peace" "a life lived well and dutifully".
Some of us will bond over your death, some of us will never come back from the deep end.
Many of us will pray for you, that your grave welcomes you with open arms. We begin to wonder, are you in pains over there? Is there something you’ll like us to know about your situation? Do you want to tell your parents how sorry you are for such a short life? Do you blame yourself for dying so young?
We will challenge death, call it names like it won’t be back for us some time. We will beat our chests savagely and tell death in it’s absence that it is a weakling for taking our favourite. Some of us will never come back from the deep end. Many of us will bond with other people over your death. We will relive your last moments alive, hold on to your last words, breath,smile,tears, reactions and try to imbibe some of your virtues.
We will wish you left a concrete part of you behind,maybe a child, without us knowing, our heads where you now live in, is somewhat concrete.
