REMEMBERING AFTER EIGHT YEADRS
I tried not to. Honest, I did. It’s been seven years. When will it be enough? Some day. How long is enough? Just a bit more.
I can still see it all (vividly) unfolding in front of me. I feel that helpless feeling. I can hear that moaning… that deep guttural moaning. The screaming and tears are still so real to me.
Is this me being unable to move on? I don’t know. And I don’t care… or do I?
I remember it all. Meeting the hearse at the airport and following it home. Going inside the funeral home for a bit. Buddy’s escort there with his body in that flag draped casket.
Returning the next day for our personal goodbye. I had my arm around her. She was standing a little bent forward, hands clasped at her chest. Me with my lef arm around her shoulder, my right hand…
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