You died on a Saturday. I remember thinking it was too beautiful a day for death; too beautiful for your slip from pink, to gray, to gold. But now I know Death comes, regardless of swaths of stars. Regardless of being held by the sun and kissed open by the wind. Death comes. Plucking each petal from its bloom in…
Whether you began here or here, your goal was this and eventually this. But something went terribly wrong. So you’ve spent more time here and here than you planned. When they call to ask about her, you tell them. When they neglect to ask about you, you think, It’s okay. I’m okay. And when they say things like: “God has…
