I know she's gone.
I saw her go.
I held her hand as she passed on.
I kissed her forehead and told her it was okay.
I miss her.
I expect her to be there when I get home. She's not there.
I look for her calls during the day. They don't come.
Her last coherent words:
I leaned over her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
I said, "I love you".
She said, "I love you too. I love you all."
That was Tuesday evening.
I think she left then.
Her body stopped working Thursday afternoon.
Where are you?
I'm here. You know I love you. I'm waiting for you.
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