Having never lost anyone close myself, I can’t say I understand. I can’t give advice or encouragement. I can’t say he’s in a better place—I didn’t know the guy—and I can’t share stories, memories, or moments that have drifted into the space of time that he no longer has a key to. But, I can listen. I can nod and smile and laugh when he talks about the days of a younger Fletcher and his best friend. I can ask questions, like ‘what was his favorite tv show?’ or ‘did he read a lot, or did he just collect books?’ I can be a buffer in a place that I’m not sure anyone else has ever been for him.
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