Sucker punched.

Eight.

Eight little messages represent all that remains of his voice.

I came across them when I was looking through my gmail for some old school contacts.

The memory of him is softening at the edges, melding with other memories. No one wants to talk about him, so it gets harder to keep the picture of him clear. I have a handful of photographs, a sweatshirt, the pillow we chose for the bar exam, and 8 emails.

Well, and the notes he took for me in Bar Prep class, which probably makes me the only lawyer who still has all her Bar Prep materials sitting on her bookshelf.

Damn.

Death. The gift that keeps on sucking.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s