Dear Francis

Today is smells like Japan. I remembered that smell as it struck me all a sudden on my walk to the train station. I wanted to go back to Japan. Maybe it smells like Japan because I was in that place when Grandma Emmy died. I had walked for hours and hours around the old part of Tokyo, pausing at the myriad of Shinto shrines that were sprinkled amongst the tiny streets. I was remembering her, and saying my goodbyes. Maybe today it smells like Japan because you’re dead now too. 

It was so beautiful and yet so sad. It was like a sound of dusk when you look out over the world with the sun disappearing and you feel so alone. I know that you’re not alone.  I have to hope that you’re not alone.

Earlier today I was at my desk just doing some menial paperwork before the office opened when that truth hit me. It was ridiculous. I haven’t cried in ages, and I thought that after that one year there would be no more tears left to cry.  I bawled and wailed a little bit. Embarrassed by my emotions and fearful someone in the office would find me this way. I was choked with emotion and it was frightening. I guess I needed to say goodbye.

So here it is, in my own way.
Good-bye Francis.
May G-d keep you.

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