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A grief absurd

Time heals-but you can never replace a best friend

By Charlotte Cory   October 1997

On tuesday 3rd March 1992, at 12:30pm, my best friend died. Nothing had prepared me for that moment. Or for the grief that rushed upon me like an incoming tide, wave after wave of blackness and sorrow that knocked me completely off balance. I had known her practically all her life. We had shared everything, the highs and the lows. She was there when I got married and when my first novel was published. She consoled me through the many broken love affairs that scarred my twenties. She was my confidante, my ally, totally loyal, totally forgiving, always enthusiastic. She…

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