early september, 1996
cedric,
grief has washed away now.
i do not see you everywhere now, my mother stays in her photographs, and my father visits despite his injuries. the nightmares are slowly coming to an end.
my life is a seed buried in a soil and the small plant has finally seen the sun.
now, there is only the numbing silence and the empty chair right next to mine.
it doesn't hurt that much.
not anymore.
yours,
june
