I cannot accept this fate; therefore, I am on my knees at the site of your burial. My hands are caked in mud and the rain falls steadily upon my back, I cannot decipher between my salty tears and the storm raging in and over my head.

Your name is being called out every passing second, my voice becomes strangled and shaky. There is no answer, no matter how many times I beg for your voice to be heard again.

Six feet is a long way to dig, the grave is filling up with water turning the packed in dirt to mud. I began to curse at the sky and curse at the world. I tried and now I am not sure when to quit trying. I wanted to know so much more and now I am afraid that I never will. You’ll go on carrying my secrets with you along your new adventures, I’ll live them through photographs and wonder whose secrets you are collecting now.

I am able to fling open your casket to your resting face. Immediately I am pressing on your chest just trying to revive what is left. I give you my breath, just to take your place.