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    R. Eric
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Blueblood: A Dark Southern Aristocracy - 3. My Daniel

 

I’m writing this and I know it’s not a story, but putting in the story because he is all the stories. Daniel Anthony Vacca and I stood before each other and vowed to God and swore to Him, family and friends that we were joining not just until “death do us part,” but we vowed to be together until time itself runs out. He and I joined our lives and became one. Daniel Anthony Vacca and I, Richard Eric McQueen merged and he was not only my boyfriend, he is my best friend, constant companion, my husband and we gave our hearts and souls to each other. He is not a part of my soul, he is my soul. His body stopped after two years battling cancer. For me there is and will never be a more cherished soul. Ever!

Daniel, I love you eternally. You gave me a life I never imagined was even possible. You showed me places in this world that was nothing short of incredible. What I wrote of a rose once a week in North Meets South, the week before you took this journey, you sent me one last rose. It’s white this time. You knew what was going to happen. So did I. I’m having the last rose preserved to last forever. I will never forget you. We are one. I miss you now so much, but I know you’re still here. I can still hear your voice as you remind me to sweep the floor, telling me I need a haircut and I can see you frowning at what I choose to wear, but you always kept your mouth shut about it! But after all these years together, we don’t need words to understand each other. I know you so well, I practically read your mind. The badge I gave you as “Fashion Police” is still valid and I will enforce your rules. I still have the ticket book and I’ll be your deputy. I’ll give a ticket for fashion violations.

I’ll see you later, Daniel. Just wait until I get where you are before you have too good a time. My best friend and love of my life. You’re it for me. There is and will be no one else. You were Seth, Colin, Tony, Matt, Mike, Ben, Brad, Vincent…it was always you. Now the pain is gone and you’re free. I’m going to continue writing about you. Because as I do that, you’ll always be alive and others will get to know and remember you. You’re somewhat famous now! Enjoy it!

I love you and we’ll be together again soon. So, until then…be good!

 

Daniel Anthony Vacca

Born November 7, 1955

Died April 1, 2017

Copyright © 2017 R. Eric; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I’m sure Daniel would give me a ticket for lack of style. I grew up in the ‘70s, I am a jeans-and-t-shirt guy to the core. I had one Ralph Lauren Polo shirt in the ‘80s, but it’s too small for me to wear – that’s the most fashionable I’ve ever been. I have never owned any custom-made clothing unless you count the things my mother made for me in the ‘60s and ‘70s!  ;-)

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You speak of Daniel as having died April 1, 2017. Not true, no-one is truly dead who lives in the heart of another. Daniel lives in your heart and in your pen (or word processor whichever you use to create the tales you bring to us.) Speaking for myself. I am pleased to think that a little bit of Daniel is in each of the characterizations you employ in your creativity. Mourn his passing, yes, but love his memory.

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