God, are you even here anymore?
I can’t believe it’s been three years already.
It feels like an eternity and a time warp all at once.
If you were alive now, you’d be in college this year.
I hate that you never got the chance to get older.
I’d trade places with you in a second, if it meant you could live.
Especially since I feel like you appreciate the value of life a lot more than I ever have.
And sometimes I’m still so angry that this happened to you.
To you, of all people!
If anyone deserves to die, it certainly wasn’t you, man.
You made everyone’s life better that you came in contact with.
You never complained, never asked why this had to happen to you.
Maybe you just felt like you didn’t have to, since we all were already asking God for you.
You mean so much in my life; I will never forget you.
All I can think about is you sometimes.
How you talked, and how you walked, especially how you laughed.
How you played the drums, how you smiled even though you were dying at 15 years old.
I remember your cane and your different hats, and how much you meant to Diana.
I remember the drum set the Make-A-Wish foundation gave you.
I remember the concerts that we had after you died to raise money for cancer research.
And I remember how we all went to support you, but no one really had fun because you weren’t there.
I remember how your family rested your drum sticks on your chest at your wake, and the time that your best friends carried out your coffin at your funeral.
And I remember those two songs that always make me think of you: “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and “Hear You Me.”
I wish I had a thousand million more memories of you, but I’ll never be able to.
How has it been this long without you?
I feel like my heart can’t break anymore, but each time Valentine’s Day comes again, it breaks a little more.
Forever in our hearts, R.I.P. Steven "Rocco" Anthony Calla, May angels lead you in.
