Came home in a box
the last of him I saw
a flag draped
over the casket
sobs blanket his
memory.

Whispers pull the blanket off...
he wasn't a good man
they say
his son is better off
they say.
Whispers
that he deserved it
whispers
that we can all hear

Whispers
that cloud his memory

They surround us
like the wind froze
keeping everyone where they are
only remembering the bad...

But he hugged me
and he loved his mom
and he may have tormented his sisters
but he loved them

and
in the background
plays his favorite song

and
on the television screen
is a picture of him
and his tattoos
and
in my mind
is the feeling of him hugging me
the smell
of beer and cigarettes.
He was nowhere near perfect
but he tried.

their ugly whispers
won't dilute
my memory.