roger is gone

I didn't cry because I didn't know what to think.
The day was full of conflict.
Thunder cracked and a stream trickled off the tent and down my back,
slow and unavoidable.
Rain splat and packed the ominous mound of dirt,
drowning out the chanted condolence.
I didn't know my family; they were someone else that morning.
But I finally knew my uncle.
He shared so much with us this way.
The depth, the darkness, the last minutes of utter despair.
The hopelessness of seeing no way out,
of seeing no other possibility but ending his life.