He killed himself on April 1st,
But when my Mom called me and told me I never thought it was a joke.
I was told we found out my brother was deaf on the 1st, too,
But I don’t remember that.
I remember sitting outside my pre-calculus classroom and crying on the phone.
I felt silly.
People walked by and asked if I was okay,
And when I told our substitute teacher I had to leave school early,
She gave me a hug.
We graduated on May 22nd,
And I got my first tattoo on June 1st.
I wanted to die sometime before my birthday in March last year,
But I can’t remember the date.
I’ve gotten into pottery since then,
And I can crochet myself bags.
I look forward to things,
Which I didn’t used to,
And I hang paper calendars on my walls.
I’ll be 20 in a month.
I’m afraid one day
Of hearing that someone I used to love has died.
It seems that the older you get the more used to it you are;
My family exchanges the news of “someone passing”
In a way that makes it seem deceivingly light.
I can’t make sense of it yet though,
I think I’m afraid of death.