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I look at this photo of you from Christmas of 2009 and you are so handsome. I look at this photo and your body and think how is it possible that your body is burned up into ashes sitting in an urn in a container in my closet, swaddled by the blanket that kept you warm until your dying breath?
I’ve started putting Tabasco on my eggs. I had no idea I could ever feel this lost, this empty.
ad astra per aspera 