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Chapter 18

Patrick parked in the lot, grabbed a blanket out of the trunk of his car, and made his way out to the graveside. It had one of those flat ground placards that read Andrew Jacob Lewis, b. Oct. 30, 1982, d. Sept. 7, 2007.The grave was barren of flowers. No one had visited for a while.

When Andrew first died, Patrick had come often. Eventually, he’d decided, after talking to the numerous counselors he’d gone to after the suicide, that it was no longer healthy to visit. Yet here he was.

He placed the blanket on the ground and sat next to Andrew’s final resting place. Not that he really thought Andrew was here or that he necessarily had to be there to feel close to Andrew. Patrick didn’t know for sure if he even believed in God.

Patrick wondered if Andrew had left a suicide note if it would have helped him understand or if it would have made him feel worse.

“What am I even doing here?”