Death

When I think, or thought i guess, of death, it was always my great grandmother or my distant aunt or someone that had lived a good life or someone that I never even knew that well. Now all I can think of is him, PJ. The boy that grew up into a man who I always looked up to. We were young, to me we were immortal. He is a part of most of the memories I have of my favourite place on the earth. I see him everywhere here; bending over the pool table downstairs with a pool cue, eating a sandwich in the kitchen after helping papa and uncle mark out in the yard, delivering papers to various different houses and businesses, bounding down the stairs at the call of his name "PEEEG", spending hours with me on his trampoline that took up half the backyard, bowling at the lanes, seeing a movie at the tiny town mall, eating at my favourite restaurant, running around and around the hall playing hide and seek, grounders at the lake, leading me to the swimming pool. I just don't know how to move past this when he is so alive in my mind still...