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I still remember the phone call. I was folding laundry when my phone rang.
“I need you,” Rachel said. Her voice wasn’t dramatic. It was hollow. “I need you to come now.”
“He’s gone,” she said. “Just like that.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just held her.
The funeral came and went under gray skies and pounding rain. Rachel stood stiffly with her children pressed close, trying to be everything for them at once. Afterward, she leaned into me and whispered, “I don’t know how to do this alone.”
“You won’t,” I said. “I’m here.”
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