My parents loved each other. It was obvious, my father was in the military and I would find letters from both of them. After my Mother went to bed I lit a candle and I would read some of the letters. All of them had a statement of "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." I always felt my stomach sink. I think my father knew that he wasn't going to come home. He always wore a dog tag around his neck and before he left, and before I never saw him again, he gave me the dog tag and put it around my neck on a silver chain. My stomach sank again. I never saw him again.
My mother was a genius, my father commanded respect so when they died they left no instructions, just a legacy to protect. Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, and the takes and the takes, and we can keep living anyway. We rise and we fall and we break and we make mistakes, is there a reason I'm still alive, when everyone who loved me has died? I'm willing to wait for it. I´ve waited and waited for some of my family to show up again. I have a brother but I haven't seen him at all. I reckon he'd come looking for me one day, doubting he still thinks I live in this old rugged shack. The window shutters are falling and they are rotted. I don't think anyone would want to live here again.
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