Figuring Out Who We Are

I don't care why I was there.

Sitting to the right of him while tears rose from my eyes to my cheeks when I couldn't look to my left because he was there.

The bald head hidden under his hat was noticeable.

His mother's eyes were so red and I understood her pain.

To have a son so young.

To have him there.

At the place you go to when your wrists are broken after a fall at a bowling place when you're too stubborn to rent bowling shoes.

She would visit every day and probably wouldn't leave if there wasn't such thing as visiting hours and work.

I didn't want to see him, but I did.

He smiled and told me who he was even though I already knew.

His name is Ryan.

When I saw all of his things, I realized that he was here to stay.

He picked up those things and told me why they matter.

He gave them a meaning.

He told stories of those objects and proved to me why things happen and how they're supposed to happen.

He showed me that every living person and every single thing, living or not, meant something.

There was a time and place for it and that time and place will be buried and burned in the back of your mind if it meant a lot to you.

That was our first day.

On our second I showed him me which isn't a lot but he made me believe it was.

He made it seem like right now was forever and forever was infinite and that infinity is just something we've made up to feel like we matter because maybe we do.

Maybe we are here for something or maybe not.

But he makes you want to try no matter what happens.

As if though he was the little part in our brains motivating us to do better and to try.

He once told me of the first and only love in his life.

And you have to admit, he's too young to know what love is, but he actually does.

Not just in a friend that he's liked ever since a dance where she kissed him.

But for family.

And there's no need for blood to be family because family means love and love means you're here to protect someone no matter what's going on.

Protecting someone is a huge responsibility that won't always work 100% of the time, but we have to try.

Try hard enough to know that not everything will go the way you want it to, but as long as you're there for them, it's enough.

I never cared about my broken leg and ribs because once I saw him, it was enough to pull out all the pain out that went straight into my mind.

It didn't hit me in the heart yet because I didn't know him.

But when I did, the pain went away and was replaced with joy.

Because he gave me that joy like I'm a geek at comic-con.

Like I'm anyone who's ever listened to a good song.

He gave me that joy that lasted for so long that I had no worries of pulled strings that disconnected him from his life.

But when it did,

it hurt in the heart.

The place reserved for those that'd fight their way to be someone that proves themselves as people or for what they believe in.

He fought long and hard on a seemingly never-ending battle that was doomed to end bad because there's no such thing as a good war.

But there is such thing as hard labor in giving a great amount of work in something that could mean a lot to someone.

And he means a lot because he didn't have to do hard work to be who he is to me, but he did try hard.

He's much more than a friend. He's a brother.

He's someone that can show that life is something that was put out there for us to take and to take control of because there's something we all have to do.

We have to be us.

The kids that are smart enough to know that there are different kinds of people, but we're too ignorant to not understand how big the difference is.

In the mind of a kid, there is no differences no matter how obvious.

Ryan looks at things almost as if he can change it. Like he can do something about the broken light that is our world.

He could just pick up another light bulb and turn it to the point where he'll light us up.

But his light grew dim.

So we must meet his absence of light with our bright minds and show him we can be just as good of people as he was.

No.

Not "Was."

But "Is'

Because he'll never stop being.

Even if his heart did.

He's planted seeds in his garden of hope and only we can make sure that it grows.

We must water those seeds.

Nourish it with our hearts and bring it the love it needs to be big enough to give out to everyone.

Especially those who need it more than others.

He's given us all a reason to be here.

He shows that life isn't a pointless thing used to create false illusions of success and loyalty.

His loyalty lies on the greaten height of a mountain too big to climb.

But that doesn't mean people don't stop to try.

And when they do try, they don't usually make it all the way up there, but all we can do is our best.

Isn't that what it's all about?

Just trying to be there.

Trying to be.

To just sit on the edge of a line that shouldn't be crossed.

We would cross that line to be there.

There's your trying.

Ryan showed me that trying is a fundamental of giving pleasure to those who ask of it.

And that the ones who ask aren't always going to be pleasant back to us when we try our best but don't fully succeed.

We have to test their loyalty and we don't always get a positive reply.

But with every positive reply, there's a lost soul that figures out who and what they are.

We have the tickets to a great show that is life.

And, Ryan, right now, there's someone figuring out who they want to be.

So bring us the joys of simple pleasure.

Make us do something that'll make a person say, "Thanks."

And when they do, we have to know that we must say, "you're welcome," because nobody says that anymore.

Just, "Yeah."

Or, "Mmhmm."

We have to show that their thanks was noted to not be forgotten.

To be treasured in our hearts along with the new respect for ourselves.

I remembered Ryan saying that angels of people who have died all have someone to protect even after I told him that the thoughts of angels and God was never a concern for me.

Angels find the people to protect by looking for their specific piece of secret strings we all have tied around our fingers.

His imagination was extraordinary.

I can see why it hurt so much on the day he left us all physically.

That imagination caused an explosion of what could be and what is.

And what this is, is just an excuse to talk about the possibilities instead of doing them.

So what we have to do is our best to be heard.

If no one listens, we don't have to take that from them.

Let's be heard!

Because Ryan wouldn't settle for less.

Ryan's last words were to me.

He said, "I love you."

And I heard that.

But before he told me his last words,

he gave me a piece of string to tie around my finger.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community

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