He was the devoted husband of my friend.
He was my age.
He died tonight.
A heart attack I was told.
He used to joke that we should either build a bridge
between our houses, or a tunnel under the street,
to make it easier to visit each other, as his wife
and I spent so much time together.
As a boy growing up in a big city, he had decided
at a young age to become a dairy farmer.
He fulfilled that dream.
This morning he sold a cow.
This evening he went to check out his cows.
It was at his work place he was found dead a
few hours ago.
It is so far away.
I will not be able to go to the funeral.
I will not be able to hug his wife and children.
On old gravestones the texts often describe
the deceased as a "righteous, honest, good man".
That fits N.
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