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Don’t shoot before you speak.

Too fast of a reaction time didn’t mix well with your lack of ability to ask before you do.

Today you counted on your fingers and toes all of the people who were there for you, 

but before you did,

You found yourself a make shift blindfold and you never found the time to take it back off.

Your final months were blinded by an overwhelming self pity and not listening when anyone told you they loved you.

Past tense.

We loved you, is a lot more like it.

After the shock wore off, there was so much anger.

I found an old picture of us,

We were young

We had been blowing bubbles at grandma’s

I held that picture and cried for days

How could you?

I saw a photo of your son the other day,

How could you? 

He’s growing up too fast,

How could you? 

He hasn’t yet come across the question,

“Where’s daddy?”

He knows the Army keeps you.

But on the day he finally does ask,

What will we tell him?

Isn’t that what suicide notes are for? 

Where is his goodbye?

His final “I love you”

How could you?

And what about our goodbyes?

Scattered in all that you left behind?

Some old t-shirts

Your video game collection?

A beautiful baby boy?

Can you find answers within a pile of things and a young boy who still doesn’t understand?

We’re trying.

Maybe someday we’ll find you

Burried beneath all that you left

And on that day will closure finally find us?

Or is that blind too? 

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