Dear Kevin (this probably won’t be a poem)

It’s funny how you jump in and out.

Jess said you show up in her dreams every few months,

I said, wait - me too. Though in truth 

I think it’s only been two or three times since.

We kind of laughed a million miles away from one another, about how easy it was to imagine 

-you-  doing that to everyone. How many people do you visit? Making the rounds? Is it one each night or do you bounce like tigger between each pillow

Into people’s sleep-

to this one you say hi,

to this one you share news,

this one sing a lullaby,

for this a hidden truth,

I think I’m still mad at you. 

Like I’m mad at everyone who died too early. Krystin and Hallie, Tyler and my Uncle. Whether I was close and personal or distant… sad at the loss of what could be. Pissed at the emptiness where you should be. 

But death is also funny like that. Because you jump in and out, and sometimes it’s a sadness, and sometimes a laughter, and sometimes an anger and sometimes a memory that can’t really be categorized so easily. And in between, these days I don’t remember… and that’s ok. 

But keep visiting, sprite like, as long as it doesn’t tie your soul to some agony. I know a lot of people would be happy to see your smiling face.