Sometimes in our little community we could lose where one of us ended and the other began. We, in some ways, just melted into each other.
Because what my computer doesn’t know is that you’ve been gone now for two years. My computer doesn’t know how aggressive your skin cancer was. My computer doesn’t know that we stayed up late with you in your last days, that we stood over you hand in hand praying, that we whispered into your ear “it’s okay, now, let go.”