A Thousand Years

This week's phrase is “A Thousand Years”: This week, the one containing the anniversary of your death, is tougher than all others. I know why, from a logical perspective, but it confuses me nonetheless. It is not as if I miss you more today than last Monday, but the pain is worse, the dreams more visceral, and the failures present. It is as if I am preparing for your funeral again, and I was not ready the first time. People appeared to show their respects, and their love; the band played; beautiful words were spoken; it was lost on me. I know I said something, what it was I do not recall, but words came from my lips. I knew they did not mean much to you, as they came too late for you to appreciate the love I had for you, and you were gone. All I have to give now is the knowledge that I will never let the memory of you pass, nor will I let the generations that follow forget you. For a thousand years or more, your name will ring out with the legacy you left. Good night my baby brother.