The grave’s sloped grass looked plush and trimmed. Kent had a view of the brown Allegheny River, Spayne Eatery, and Hays Park. Two oaks shaded his new home, offering a comfortable feel.
Summer wind licked my face and the back of my hands and arms. The day looked a welcoming and soothing blue, somewhat innocent and harmless. I stood over the grave and whispered, “Visiting this summer. Will stop by when I can. Miss you, little brother. You left too soon.”
I sat thinking of Memorial Day:
I wasn’t at the party two years before. Had I attended Kent might have lived. I obtained details of his drowning from party guests:
Jacob Sanders, Camp Millitow’s owner: “He drank too much. One bottle of beer after the next. A dozen or more. He was inebriated.”
His girlfriend at the time, Melissa Choo: “
