Nobody teaches you how to lose a teammate. They teach you plays. They teach you footwork. They teach you how to read a defense. But they never prepare you for the morning you show up to school and the locker next to yours is empty.
Grief at 17 looks like showing up to practice anyway. It looks like wearing No. I on your chest at the next game even though your throat closes when you look at the scoreboard. It looks like laughing at something he would've laughed at and then feeling guilty about it for three seconds before remembering that's exactly what he would've wanted.
RMF was built for this generation. The one that carries their grief quietly and their loyalty loudly.
We don't do "rest in peace" because he's not resting. He's in every gym, every sideline, every rep that gets pushed through when your body says stop.
That's not peace. That's fire.