My Father Didn’t Have a Twin

Last week I sat next to a man for one hour who looked so much like you I couldn’t turn to face him.  At first, I thought of Uncle Clarence but got convinced that it was you the guest speaker looked like.  I resisted the connection.  But I couldn’t avoid his glasses, his facial hair, the shape of his head, and the tone he took.  You could have been twins.  I almost cried when I asked him a question, as he answered me, because looking in his eyes made me think that you were in the room.  As long as I didn’t blink, you were there, one long breath away, sitting next to me, talking, explaining.  You weren’t gone.  You weren’t dead.  You were there, close enough for me to touch.

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