Here's a snippet of the beginning:
"You left us 19 years ago today. The Grim Reaper plucked your
soul from your soon to be lifeless body before the truck driver, drunk, ran
through a red light…on Halloween of all the days. They’d pronounce you, Amy,
dead on arrival at the hospital, dressed in a belly dancing costume to add to
the ridiculous way you had to leave us. And I will always wonder who you would
have become. Bright lights burn fast.
"As for the two of us that remained it wasn’t that much later
that AIDs-related pneumonia would take you, Rod, to wherever that next place is.
It was early still in the experiments with medication cocktails to extend life,
and you joined dozens of others that I knew who lost their battles all around
the same time. Dreams disappeared quickly and intentions gave way to funeral
caskets. The Reaper walked with you for some time before your end came but it
was still far, far too soon.
"And so it seems, I’m the only one left to tell our story all these years later – the story about that year where we ran to and from what might have been the end of all of us all at once. And I’m ashamed to tell you that one day, not too many years ago, I could hardly bear the pain of it all – a world without the two of you, stuck in a place wondering where I’d placed the compass we’d created from our brash and bold talks about where we’d be some day. But the Reaper didn’t get me that day. After all, one of us had to remain to tell the story of our year together, one of us had to live to tell about what happened after you’d both left. The restlessness of our youth has been my constant companion even as I’ve entered middle age, always reminding me of the two of you, of our accidental journey around the world and back again.
"This is the story of you, us, and me."
And while I won't be sharing all 50k word with you, I suspect you'll get a few more snippets here and there.
"And so it seems, I’m the only one left to tell our story all these years later – the story about that year where we ran to and from what might have been the end of all of us all at once. And I’m ashamed to tell you that one day, not too many years ago, I could hardly bear the pain of it all – a world without the two of you, stuck in a place wondering where I’d placed the compass we’d created from our brash and bold talks about where we’d be some day. But the Reaper didn’t get me that day. After all, one of us had to remain to tell the story of our year together, one of us had to live to tell about what happened after you’d both left. The restlessness of our youth has been my constant companion even as I’ve entered middle age, always reminding me of the two of you, of our accidental journey around the world and back again.
"This is the story of you, us, and me."
And while I won't be sharing all 50k word with you, I suspect you'll get a few more snippets here and there.