Dear Brother

I saw a picture of you in the photo album the other day and I thought of you. I remember you taught me how to fight so you would always win. It was fun and eventually I caught on to your sneaky ways.

I remember you taught me how to play football with your friends and how I was always the one that played the dummy.

As an older brother, you were the best. You told me not to do the things you did because you knew I would get into trouble; and you were right. I still wanted to do them though because you did.

Can you see me now from where you are? Is the sun shining or is it dark as night? Are the stars shining?

I’m doing all the things I can to see you, to remember you. The color of your hair, your smile; what you said when I said you didn’t have to go, I love you. 

Can you see me now doing what the living do to remember someone they love? Can you see me trying to explain to my children why you are no longer here? How you died? Or how you lived?

We go on; forward, maybe backward. I’m not really sure, but we do all the things the living do. I wish you could tell me what you do when you are not here, when you’re not remembered anymore. Are you still there? Wherever you are?

Do you still see people living? Or do you see them dying? Is there a difference or is it simply different?

For now, I remember you. It’s what the living do.

—Paul Causey