I went to your funeral today.

I walked into the dimly lit church, with the organs playing and the candles burning, and the entire town sitting quietly in the wooden pews. 

I walked slowly toward the window, I didn't plan on paying attention during the next few hours.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. A woman's voice slowly broke through my trance, and I focused in on your mother's face. She looked tired. But she smiled wearily.

"..It's what he would've wanted."

I shook my head. She looked sympathetic and took my hand.

"He would want you to sit with us, up front. You were so special to him."

She tugged me along, and I followed hesitantly.

I found myself seated between your younger brother and your older sister. She hugged me quickly and squeezed my shoulder. "He'd be glad you were here." She whispered.

Your brother, four years old, bless his heart. He took my hand in his tiny sweaty one, and he squeezed it three times. He peered up at me, your blue eyes nestled in his perfect little face. 

"Did he tell you what it means when I do three squeezes?" His eyes filled with tears. I nodded.

I remembered that day, in the park. We were laying in the grass. You rolled over and rested your head on my stomach. Took my hand. Sqeezed three times. You looked at me from beneath your mop of curly brown hair, and smiled. "Three squeezes for I-Love-You." I smiled back, and squeezed four. I-Love-You-Too.

Then I was back. Your brother's hand still in mine. I squeezed him four times. He smiled gently, and nestled into my side.

When the time came for people from the congregation to speak, I found myself listening to stories of you and your kindness, your humility, your accomplishments. I found myself walking on wobbling knees to the podium. The words fell from my mouth without my consent, and the tears followed.

"Evan was my best friend. The one person who I could tell anything. Often times I would tell him my worries, my fears, and he would smile at me and say, "Kid, you think that's gonna matter a year from now? Ten years from now? No, what's going to matter is if your happy. Just be happy, that's all." I don't think many of us are happy today, and Evan would've hated that. When we were little kids, he used to tell me he wanted to be one of Santa's elves when he grew up, because they were the happiest people in the world. Their jobs were to make people happy. That's what he wanted. Well, when we grew up and he broke six feet, I think that dream flew out the window. And now, all his other dreams are gone, too. He's never going to get to be anything when he grows up. But he accomplished one thing. He was happy. And he would want all of us to be happy, too. I think we all owe him that. To at least try to be happy. Because god knows he's up there making silly faces trying to get all of us to smile."

I stopped then. I lost it. Your brother walked to the podium, took my hand and led me, sobbing, back to my seat. 

I listened to the rest of the service, and watched pictures of your smiling faces flash across a screen. All the while, a little hand in mine.

As the last picture flashed across the screen, and the words 'We won't forget.' appeared in white letters, I wiped the tears from my eyes. Took a deep breath and stood up. I felt someone grab my hand, and squeeze three times.

When I turned around, there was no one there.

I love you, too, Evan.