The more time passes the harder it is to recall your voice and mannerisms. I saw your boss, Matt yesterday and he was sporting that square jaw, tight lip look you picked up from him. Windsor Lawn trucks always cause my heart to flip and a tear to drip.
When we were together on this day in August '04 I thought we were on our way to a life of good times for all of us. We were looking to the future. Time was not on our side. We never thought that would be your last August. Another August has passed and we are slipping into winter. I dread winter. You loved snow. To me it's just cold and slow.
Time is not my friend. Time does not heal. Time steals our memories. Time dulls our senses. Time laughs at our pain and drags us further into the abyss. Time is brazen. Without shame, time swaggers in praise for healing, but the two-faced creep pushes dementia as a cure.
Air Bear, we're getting by and holding on.
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