June 16, 2024

The first time I went to visit G, I sat next to a puddle that had iced over the foot of his grave. It was December, my first day back from Spain, and it had been a whole week since he was buried. I read aloud the letter I wrote to him the night I found out he died. When I visited again in July, I spent another 30 minutes doing the same thing, except now next to his actual grave (!!).

I met G in English. I knew no one else in the class, so I grabbed the closest open seat, next to his. Same thing happened when I walked into Accelerated Pre-Calc. Also from Brooklyn, one of the first things he told me was that he used to go to [school]— where his little sister was now and where his older sister had just graduated from. She was at [college] now. “She’s so smart”, he humbly bragged. He was like that almost every time he spoke about his sisters. To him, they are the greatest— his most favorite people. His love for them is enviable; I remember wishing that my little siblings loved me the way he loved his.

Last year one of them wrote: “When you died, a part of me went with you, but what’s stayed lives for you”. And that’s how it be. Even though it will never be fair, nor can we ever make sense of it, on we go.

G, you always just got it (me) and said it like it was. Though sometimes I think you felt like you were a few steps behind, you were actually several steps ahead. At 17, 18, 19, and so on, there was no one more disciplined, fearless yet vulnerable, nor as kind, considerate, and genuine than you. An old soul, indeed. How lucky are we?

Happy 24th, King of Brooklyn. Thank you for being you. I adore you. We miss you, and your sly smize, every day.