They were engaged and on the trip of a lifetime when tragedy struck. What would she tell his parents?
This is what I remember about waiting at the temple in Ko Pha Ngan that August: cold, bitter black coffee. I can still taste it 15 years later. It must have been around 2am. Women were passing out the cups, and a small group of men gathered around a red Toyota truck in which the body of my fiance lay, wrapped in a white sheet.
Two Israeli girls sat next to me on a low wall. They had been with me through the most terrible moments of my life, but I didn’t even know their names. We were waiting for a key. At the clinic, it had been explained to me that Sean had to be put in a box at the temple, the only place on the island where his body could be kept cold. But they couldn’t find the key.
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