5 years running

five more years will not make me miss him less.

five more years will not make me miss him less.

five more years will not make me miss him less.

five more years will not make me miss him less.

five more years will not make me miss him less.

 my mantra as i recall his laughter, his voice, his arms around me like he knew it was the last time, his arms around me like he knew he'd see me soon, the similarities between the two. that was one thing about Nate: you always knew where you stood. or almost always. I feel a little guilty now and then for wanting more of him his last time stateside, but as the now-then chasm deepens, so does understanding. i'm pretty he sure he knew and wanted to be with everyone at once.

when my time comes will i sense it? will i sufficiently convey my appreciation for everyone i've known while i still can? should i not do it now? how to begin? like so:

i love YOU. yes, you. i may never have met you, and i may never willn't unless time is not so streamlined as we perceive it.. you may have known me for a short time, a long time, or for a short time a long time ago. You are loved.

After five years i may not be able to recall the feel of his scruff on my chest, but i can vividly remember the love for life and everything living that exuded from him constantly. it seems the only way to truly remember his memory is to keep it going.

R.I.P. Sgt. Nathan Kalani Bouchard

though i sometimes feel i may never recover, right now i am ok.

here's an album for him. one he would have loved, one he would have loved had he heard it.

Fugazi - Red Medicine
The Books - Lost and Safe

__________________________________________________________________________

Finding Comfort

his box remains sealed, they said,
due to the state of remains:

the embalming suffered several setbacks.
the stench of his charred flesh
must have been too close
to barbecue;
they had him
an extra week
(which pales next to
the extra months
he was deployed)
before they gave up and decided
to finish the job begun
in Samarra.

we signed
a paper
acknowledging
that his body is
incomplete.

i'm told i can take comfort in the probability
that he suffered no pain
and didn't have time to realize
he was killed,

but
five years later i am still
staring at his urn.

__________________________________________________________________________________

i miss you terribly, bro. i still don't know if i believe in an afterlife, but you visited me in my dreams the other night and wanted to know how i was doing really. i didn't know how to answer then, but now i'm certain that i'm actually pretty well, even if i still hurt; i've been playing through the pain as long as i can remember. sometimes little brothers teach big brothers something too, even if we don't get the chance to tell you until it's too late. I am in love and feeling good about myself and every thing (most things) around me. I wish you were a supporting character in this chapter of my life too instead of the shadow hanging over the plot from which the mood is derived. I have no idea if that sentence just made any sense, but i think you get it, maybe. maybe you can read what i've been really trying to say this entire paragraph because i simply can not find words anymore to express how scattered i sometimes feel, how unbalanced.

tonight you are heavy.
tomorrow will be easier.

!!!!!
-F.