Dear friend,
Sometimes when I selfishly think of all of the worst things that have happened in my life, I think of you. I wish I didn't; I wish you were only the best thing, and nothing else. But you were. You were both -- the best thing when you were here, and your death the worst.
How can I still struggle with realizations that I am profoundly different because of the fact that you died? My heart circles around the same drain. I wonder how long before I put a plug in it.
All this is to say that I miss you. I wish you were here to help me decide how to live my life these days. This was something you were always good at. Something I haven't been.
Love,
Deanna
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