The prompt is Spoon River Anthology. Write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead.
A friend who died before her sweet 16th birthday (I was barely 12 myself)
When I got sick with that brain tumor
And died suddenly before turning sixteen,
None of y’all knew what death was really about.
Of course my siblings, my immediate family
Felt the loss of my presence in their own way,
But for school mates and church mates (which
Is where I spent most of my life at that point)
It was probably a very short term grief, if that.
For my brothers, there was one less person
To rotate the chores among. And my bedroom
Was up for bids as I was the only girl in the house.
I know my baby brother still misses me.
I was his hero and my departure left him
A bit unprotected against his older brothers.
My mother had big plans for me. Music lessons,
Good grades I always brought home from school,
College and marriage and a future family
of my own, now suddenly erased from the range
of possibilities. For them or for me.
A tangible sadness for what might have been.
The preacher said nice things at the funeral,
But he didn’t really know me. He faked it well.