This world suddenly seems to be a dark, dark place.

Larry is dead.

As abruptly as the sentence above, he just... died. One of his friends found him Thursday night. No wonder he wasn't in group on Friday, or church on Sabbath.

It's so strange... I can still see him, in my mind... I can hear his voice, telling about his week, about how happy he is to know God, about his progress in quitting smoking... He looked so good. Hair cut, ironed shirt, beaming smile... he was the best I'd ever seen him.

How can he just be... gone? My mind refuses to wrap itself around that fact that I will not see Larry this Friday night. I will not buy chicken from him, and I will never help him learn how to read. I think the worst part is that I don't even have a picture of him.

I can do nothing but silently scream my agony into the black abyss that yawns before me. He was my friend. I loved him. He had plans, dreams, hopes, ambitions... gone. All gone.

In the end, is that all it comes to? One by one, the lights of our lives go out, leaving thin smoke trails of memory in the minds of others... until they, too, are no more.

Oh, Larry.


At least I know that you loved God. I am absolutely sure I'll see you again.

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