by Joel B.
I stood there blankly staring at my cousin being lowered into his grave, I thought about all the times we’ve had together. As I threw my rose down I kept expecting him to leap from the casket from the previous eight years of knowing him to be full of life and smart. I looked to my left then my right at the people weeping over him, I was so curious about how an 8-year-old could cause so much grief with so little time on earth. I spent the next ten minutes thinking before my dad put his hand on me, and said, “Son, its time to go." The ride home was dull and grim. When we got home I looked at my family still weeping over his death and I thought, When I grow up... I want to be just like him.
Joel B. is a 12-year-old from the rolling hills of Central Texas. He wrote this on what would have been his cousin's 9th birthday, which was on Father's Day. He was introduced to Six Sentences by his mother, and immediately wanted to write one.