First, a poem I wrote him and read during his funeral:
Going Home
Still in shock, my heart is breaking
My mind is numb, my body, shaking.
Are you really gone? Aren't you still near?
If I reach out to you, your voice, will I hear?
I've always had you by my side,
You've taught me to always hold my head high
“D.C. You're talented, and you're gonna go far.
Out of all of us, kid, you're the shooting star.”
Little did I know, all that I'd have left is memory and a scar.
My heart is broken, but it's not about me.
Soaring above all of us, finally free.
No more machines, no more beeps,
No more worries, no more weeps.
No more pain, and one more sleep.
I know deep down you're looking over me.
You traded you're do-rag for a halo, so big brother, fly free.
And an image to tie it all together:
https://mega.co.nz/#!FAxGkAiL!trSuYjdSUpYGou5I_Q8jiUUsU...
I was proud of myself – I didn't self harm once despite all the stress.
and
were both by my side during the whole thing.
Well, we buried him and I was a pallbearer. I learned a lot doing that - in the times I felt like I was going to drop the casket, I somehow felt the strength to go on - I could almost feel his hand on mine. I stayed by his side until the very end. I wore his white tie and my Derpy beanie (with the pony facing the back - of course) - he was never one to dress formal - and always wore a 'gangsta' hat. I felt tied to his tie, and have it in my laptop bag now.
The service was very nice, and we had a nice get together afterwards with the family. Oh. And cat's outta the bag about me being bi - I wasn't shy introducing hubby and Thief as my partners. Got a lot of odd looks, but you know what?
That family isn't important. They've never taken the time out to get to know me, to cry with me, to laugh - I bet none of them who were judgmental even knew half of the elective classes I took in high school. Those that care, don't matter. Those that matter, don't care.
Stay sexy, stay strong watchers. DS loves you and takes NONE of you for granted. 
