I wish the steps I took down this small hall would have reached on forever. Nothing on God's green Earth could have gotten me anymore ready for what I would have to help my mother with. My dad was gone and I wished he wasn't, but he was. Funeral arrangements wouldn't repair the piece of my cœur, coeur that was missing, nothing would. All this would do was make my father's death look pretty, but dying wasn't pretty.
At the end of the hall, I stopped and stood still. I gazed at my mom sitting on the couch, rushing through papers, with a pen poised in her hand and my cœur, coeur sank. Walking over to her,...
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