passed away.
He died peacefully in the early morning with my hand wrapped around his.
The grief was far greater than I had expected.
We had only spent a few weeks together, but somehow those weeks contained all the love and longing of the fifty-six years we had lost.
The funeral was small.
I stood beside his grave and finally allowed myself to cry.
Raymond attended, of course.
He waited until most of the mourners had left before approaching me.
“You know I’m your only living relative,” he said while
