Disheveled
Leaning over the porcelain
of the last sixteen years
I recollected how I came to be
Disheveled
of the last sixteen years
I recollected how I came to be
Disheveled
The Value of a Life
What is the value of a life? Can it be measured, counted? It can, although poorly. Brad lit up a room. The sun shone in him, through him. We feel lost now without it. He had a wonderful sense of humor and was incredibly easygoing. Brad's life was invaluable to us, measured in tight hugs, and a "We'll see you later". There were too few Christmases he made merrier, but they were made so much better by him. Last Friday, I wrote: "Brad's sense of childlike wonder lit up our lives. The sun truly shone in him. His passing has left the world darker and our hearts emptier. He took that light with him, but he also left pieces of it in each of us." Lighting candles, holding hands, these things won't bring him back. Nor will seeking vengeance, retribution. Justice. There was no justice in his death. I can't even do him justice in words. Maybe I'm the wrong person to ask. I took Brad for granted. I didn't see him for the good ...
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