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61. DEATH AND GRIEF

Death.

You can dream about it. You can talk about it. You can prepare for it but when it hits, it breaks everything in you and shows you that you can never be ready for it.

Silence.

A great abyss of silence.

I saw them talk. I saw them walk. I saw them stand before me, eyes staring and lips moving but all I heard was silence. I curled myself in the chair, feet on the suede. A fleece blanket covered me, not sure when it was draped over but it brought me warmth. Head on my knees with my left hand holding on, afraid to let go because I was afraid that if I did then they would snatch Elio away.

Internal bleeding, fractured ribs, torn muscles, ruptured spline. The list went on and on. The doctor’s words came and went as they had in the three days of my grief.

A hand fell on my shoulder, my body jerking in fright, my eyes turning—red and burning. Brown eyes stared at me, never leaving. I could see the sadness, the heartache, reflecting pain I could not describe. For long minutes I jus
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