up or down

When a good man dies there are tears. But who is to be the judge of good.
I imagine that he is up there, at least for the time being, until they come to a decision.
At the moment it doesn't hurt anymore.
It is possible that he may know more pain in death than he ever did in life.
I didn't cry. I probably wont.
I remember when I was young he told me that hiccups are a result of digestion. Or something like that. Eating to fast, drinking too much. And then he taught us a trick where you could tie someone up using a broom. I remember thinking it would be a great trick to use on a burglar.
But it wouldn't have worked. There was no way, and still isn't a way that I could convince a burglar to sit cross legged on the floor.
I remember that trailer so well. Where I slept, where I played, where I got in the way. The maple walnut ice cream and watermelon.
There is only one more to go from the trailer. I will cry when that happens. As I did with the one before this.
But not this time. But not for the lack of love. Or of memories.
But because good has not been decided yet.