September 05, 2003.

the way of life.

i lie on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. i have been staring at it for some time.

"how could she die?" i ask my dad. he hugs me, and says barely audibly

"i didn't look after her well enough, that's why. i was always annoying her."

i am mortified that this thought has even crossed his mind.

"don't think that." i say.

"nobody could have done more for her than you did. she was lucky to have you."

we all are.

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