“Blood clot got her. She passed peacefully. Though I’ll never get over taking her to the hospital and being told it was a migraine. Got sent home that night. She died in her sleep. So anyway, enjoy your life while you’ve got it. That’s what I say. Tomorrow is never promised.” He says it like it’s not one of the saddest stories I’ve heard. Like it wasn’t wholly unnecessary. And suddenly, little bits of Clyde’s personality slip into place for me. His mistrust of the medical system. His belief in so many zany things. Why wouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he? An event like that would have a profound
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