I met him in the year 2018. He had worked in the snack shop for a clinic I go to for mental help. I was nervous at first but some how we had a connection from the start. He struggled with drugs, alcohol, and, domestic violence. He had a story to tell and I understood not to judge or say anything he didn't already know. I remembered his hugs and that one time I bought him a meal without payback. I spoke with him the last day of his life and I new he loved me and he wanted me to stay strong. Every thing is different now since he took his own life but I tell myself I tried my best. Every day is a battle of knowing when I can see him again. My hope is I can see his face when it is ,y turn to go home. Part of me wishes I was already there.