I wish I could rewrite your story. You put the gun in your mouth but instead it misfired. You called me back and said you were sorry. You lived to be old. You were beautiful and good. If I could write that it feels like I could keep you alive, but I'm not good enough a writer.

I miss you so much already

May all of your suffering be a prelude to joy…

So much of life feels like throwing a party where everyone RSVPs but no one shows up