We stand for a while, each of us lost to our own thoughts as our eyes scan the many ways to say I love you. The wall speaks of language. Je t’aime. Te amo. Rakastan sinua. Aroha i a koutou. But the language of love is more than words. As we stand, holding hands, I think of Whit and the many ways he shows affection. His love. I hope his family know how lucky they are to have him looking after them. I think of how he’d stepped up to fill his father’s shoes when so many men in his place would’ve been consumed with their own grief. I think of the time he devotes and how his loved one’s needs are
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