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The first time I met you, you were wearing your Halloween costume. I very pleasant, approachable care bear. I never knew at that time we'd grow to be so close. Now the thought crosses my mind almost daily as to when the last time I'll talk to you might be. No one wants to talk about it. No one wants to think about it. No one wants to face the reality, this is actively killing you.
After seeing you the other night, I'm sick. Both mentally trying to prepare myself, and physically trying not to collapse in a pool of tears. I want you to be at peace, I want the pain to cease to exist, but for my own selfish reasons I do not want you to leave us.
The only thing I keep assuring myself of is that you were put in my life for a reason and I'm thankful for that. I just know that when the time comes for you, some of us will be left begging and pleading for answers that we'll never receive.