I woke this morning to the haunt of a friend of mine who was one of those people who died sooner than one might expect. It’s strange how I find myself psychoanalyzing her demise. Her condition was diagnosed late and she rapidly declined. I guess I understand that, but her diagnosis had nothing to do with her heart, and I find myself wondering if she died at least in part of a broken heart, something perhaps her doctors never considered. I know we say this about all those who pass on, but she really was a beauty inside and out, always dolled up, always positive. She kept her home, seemingly effortlessly, like a magazine and loved to entertain. She was the kind of woman who thrived off of companionship, and one of her frequent guests was a long-term lover. I miss her, and–

Sometimes I wonder
Did she die of a broken
heart because when she
asked him about their future,
he suddenly disappeared.


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