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April 30th, 2012 (4:39 PM).
Join Date: Apr 2012
I picture us grocery shopping together like we'd planned. You're lazily shoving the cart, I'm doing mental calculations and you're also telling me what we do and don't need. We're bickering over which milk to get - I've always liked whole, but to be honest I don't know if we'd bicker because what sort of milk do you even drink? We're driving home, laughing about something stupid as always. I'm the one who's driving, because you'd never get a driver's license. You wouldn't be able to stand looking at it.
Where are we living? Definitely not in your state, but are we in mine? You don't like the cold, but you said you could get over it.
Is your name still the same then? When they bury you, will it say the worst insult to you?
But before that, will we sit on a porch together with her, reminiscing about the good old days? Will we remember the good old days? Will we remember August 2011?
Will we remember January?
Will we remember my "daughter", my "wife", the friends you got in spats with, the woman I first truly loved, the brotrio? Will we remember the greatest man we have ever known but also have never known?
No, we won't. We won't buy eggs, we won't room together, I won't see your gravestone, and we won't be sharing porches.
We won't have time to remember the good old days because time is already running out.
I lost you back in January with the best of them.
You were my best friend.
I lost you back in January with the best of us.
But, as that song goes -
I believe we'll meet again, perhaps another August in ten years' time.
I'm just afraid you won't have ten years left.
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