francis m's diagnosis came 8 months before, but death, like love, is something you can never prepare yourself enough for.
i am trying to understand the miracle of life that we take for granted. we lead different lives. we are all strangers. God is the only constant and familiar figure we know, but can't see--such a confounding irony. i sing his songs, i dance to superproxy, but we are perfect strangers.
a perfect stranger touched my life and fought his last battle this morning.
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