It's been six months ago today that Gary left. I still can't say that he's d**d - can't even think the word. Sometimes I can say to someone that he died, but usually I say he passed away - just as if he was on a raft or a boat and he floated by me and kept going. "Just passed away." Away to what I don't know, and I don't like that he didn't wait for me.
"I must be here for a reason", I sometimes say to myself. But I have no way of knowing if there's any truth to that at all. I've raised my…
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