The railing I clutched as we ascended the stairs to the gathering that would unite many of his friends for the first time since he left Des Moines in March.

The door I’ve quietly shut each time I passed through this week…a rarity for someone that likes open entrances, open shades, open spaces.

The box that gently cradled my means to reality this afternoon.

Woodwork: what the people in my life have come out of since Sunday. The ways in which they have risen to the occasion — ways I never expected, would never have dreamed. For you, unending gratitude. Reciprocation, always. Any time.

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