Unable to be Titled

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I am honored (after a few rides on the roller coaster) to have been a part of your last struggle with me.
Yes, what happened on Thursday through Saturday was exquisitely painful.
(That was fucking off every chart crazy shit.)

You were trying to sort things out.
That, I understand.

Regardless of our Thursday and the Friday and that bit of the next,
my hope is that you found your Saturday evenings and Sundays… and all the days (and delicious nights) going forward.

Your heart, even without me, is what I value.
That, I know.
That, I respect.
(That, I wish I had.)

I will rise again
And be a blessing to another
In part, because I spent most of my 50th with you.

Go fly, Baby!

Love,

Gilliam

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