The first time I realize that I miss him,
so much that I just might explode,
I'm at his funeral.

My sister picked out the black dress
and shoes,
and my mom did my hair.
They talked in soft whispers all morning,
like if it was too loud,
I'd break.

Too bad they didn't realize
that I was already broken.

Nobody really liked the idea
of Dwight speaking at his funeral,
or even attending the funeral for that matter,
but I insisted.

So when he stands up there,
a few tears in his eyes,
he spoke.
Dwight said that Jim's memory
would be kept alive
and that he had no idea
how much he was loved.
(When he said that part, he looked straight at me.)

Everyone was really startled,
because he was pounding his fists
and yelling the whole time.

Some people were disgusted,
like he wasn't doing Jim any honor,
but only I knew
that Dwight was using the speech tactics
of none other
than Benito Mussolini.

The second time
I miss him
at an impossibly
high
level of desperation
is when I'm in his bedroom.

Everyone said
that I should look
through his things
first
to see where they should go.

It's here that I find
his iPod
and sweater
and yearbook
and guitar
and a picture
of the two of us
and that penguin
that sat on his desk
from Phyllis.

And then I can sense
Mark watching me
from the doorway.

"What
do you think
he's doing
right now?"
I ask.

"Probably
pranking
some loser
in heaven,"
says Mark.

Somewhere
in the back of my head
I can hear Jim laughing
because Mark
knows him so well.

For the first time
since it happened,
I smile.

And behind me,
Mark smiles too.

The third time
I think about him
and almost
completely
lose it
is when I'm driving.

Whenever we were driving
and had to slow down
because there was an accident
on the side of the road
he would get all concerned.

He'd watch
the people
closely
and wonder
if they were alright,
and would say that
he felt really sorry for them.

He just seemed
to care
so much
that it would
ruin an entire evening
because he felt so bad.

I never noticed
the irony
of this situation
(which ruined a lifetime)
when we skidded off the road
and other cars
hit us.

He was already dead
while I sat in the snow
with a fire man
trying to get me
off the ground
and out of shock.

The wind was so
cold
and the roads so
icy.

But I didn't feel a thing.

The cars that drove by
looked so sad
and so concerned.