Remembering Franco Romagnoli
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The refrigerator broke down and most of its contents went bad. As I was taking everything out, I noticed the row of medicine bottles on the door shelf and picked them up for the first time in two years. There were Franco’s insulin and a bottle of Epogen, the medicine that had given him enough strength to live as long as he did. I hadn’t ever wanted to touch them; I had wanted to keep them there, to remind me of him.
Franco died two years ago, and this was not the first time I had mixed feelings about what to do with his things…