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October and November were difficult months for me. My god-daughter and niece age 23 died in an emergency room, October 18,2013, of a ruptured appendix. I was devastated. Ten days before her death, my dearest friend's mother died after a decade's battle with multiple myeloma. Nov 3, 2013 my dearest friend died, three weeks after his mother's death. A part of me died with him.
He was very special to me and his death was the third and final time that he left me. He first left me when he went back into the Army for Operation Freedom, June 2004; his back was broken during a battle and after six back operations, he became wheelchair bound. He left me a second time when he decided that I should "move on" because his wheelchair was his "handicap" and not mine. The battle with his war-time injuries won out over my sincere desire to remain as part of his life and the combination of "post-traumatic stress syndrome" and pain-relieving drugs injured his kidneys, tired his heart and ultimately took his life prematurely. I keep his number on my cell phone and his email IDs in my contacts. I go to his Facebook page and read what so many are still posting on his wall. A part of me is waiting to receive that call that says "hey, I was wrong, I do want you to be part of my life".
He asked me to store things for him when he first left in 2004. He asked me to store more things when he was sent "home" to Fort Hood (2006) prior to his first back surgery. Now looking through the boxes and duffle bags I have stored, I find that I have so much of him that, like me, he has left behind forever. I have nicely starched and pressed cargo pants and folded muscle shirts and camoflaged patterned military uniforms and desert sand-colored boots that I can't seem to force myself to get rid of... What am I supposed to do now? Memories flood my mind releasing dammed up water from my eyes and silent screams.
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