Dear Bird,

I just cannot get used to the sun coming up on a world without you in it. No boy of just 22 should ever have to leave so suddenly, or so violently.

I’m sure you’re planning on coming back and haunting me; it’s just the sort of thing you’d do. I will always miss your sick jokes and your silly facial hair, and your ability to be totally unflattering. No girl likes to hear that you admire her “sturdy legs”, but my God you made me laugh.

You’re being cremated Sunday. Me and Sam are mixing a bit of your ashes into the ink for our tattoos. I’m getting my paw prints filled in, he is getting a falcon. You’d better be tearing up heaven by the time I get there. I look forward to seeing you again, even if I’m old.

Love from your best friend,

Little Bear, age 22