week three hundred eight | peace

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i can't really recall what happened monday, tuesday or wednesday. all i know was i saw life through blurry eyes for a few days.

on wednesday our family and friends arrived in town for abigails wake. the last thing i wanted to do was see my wife in a coffin at such a young age. but life's unfair and unfortunately we can't protect our loved ones from everything.

on thursday i dressed myself in a black button down and black jeans. alex, my parents, abbies parents, and i arrived at the church around ten a.m.
it wasn't long until we said our final goodbyes and placed her to rest under the ground.

she was at peace.
but i wasn't.

when i slept that night, they came back and so did my little brother. i woke up in a cold sweat with them still clouding my vision.

on friday i could feel that they were everywhere i went. they lurked in the shadows and sat quietly waiting to attack me.
they were successful later that night, attacking my dreams.

on saturday i wrote.
her life is a book with not enough pages for her happy ending.

on sunday i felt nothing as i read abbies second journal. it was a series of her most private thoughts; the ones she couldn't share with me. from the dates on each stanza it seemed they were written over the course that we've known each other.

the first one i read was dated two months after we met.
the first day i heard your laugh i knew i was too far gone and i still wonder how the most beautiful sound to some people is the symphony or choir and how mine could be a stupid boys giggle.

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