It's been another year without Tom; eight altogether now. The "wound" is not so raw; it just aches. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him and what might have been. I know God loves me and wants the best for me, so why wasn't Tom that "good" that I needed. As my friend's grandson used to say, "I can't know."
Wednesday I will do my usual "hiding" thing somewhere by myself and try to get through the day one more time. I'll try to remember the events of THAT day; my friends; the numbness; the police; my sons; and, I'll get through it again. And, I'll go on. My biggest question is "Why not me?"
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