She was eight but, to her Grandma, she seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, “Why so sad, Debbie?”
“Are you thinking about Michael?”
Debbie’s sobs increased, “He shouldn’t have died. He was my best friend.”
Grandma knew the loss we can feel when accident takes someone close, “Close you eyes. Tell me about Michael.”
Debbie recounted good times and bad, Grandma laughing and crying with her, “As long as you hold your memories and love of your friend, he’ll always be with you.”
Many years passed. Debbie sat with her grandson. History repeated.
She remembered, “My Grandma always told me…”
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