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Going Home

At 7:30 this morning, I hunkered over my manuscript while you were breathing your last breath. The moment passed too quickly, and then you were gone. Did I know? Did I sit up? Did I feel your absence in that moment?

Or did I think how I had a few more minutes until I had to wake the Gingerbread boys, and could I just make it to the end of the chapter? Did I think of breakfast cereal, or clean clothes, or something else? I'm not certain what thoughts were in my mind, though I wish I were.

How could I not have known? How could I not have taken note that the world had become just a bit darker without your light to shine?

It had been such a long time since I saw you, dear friend, and I wanted to tell you how you influenced me, how I looked to you for guidance at a difficult time. I wanted you to know how I loved you, and how I respected you.

You were one of the most gracious women I knew, beautiful inside and out. Now you are even farther away than you were before, and I remain here among the silent, mourning your departure.

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