Um. I don't like to write these, so sometimes I wont. Like just now. I am not writing one, that doesn't mean I am Mr. Larson, I just don't feel as if I need to stress the point. It's pretty obvious.

April Eriksson- September First, Nineteen Eighty Eight
Angel Dumott Schunard- October Twenty-Ninth, Nineteen Ninety
Mimi Marquez- January Seventh, Nineteen Ninety-One
Roger Davis- February Fourteenth, Nineteen Ninety-One
Maureen Johnson- December Twenty-Fourth, Nineteen Ninety-Six
Joanne Jefferson- December Twenty-Fourth, Nineteen Ninety-Six
Thomas Collins- May Sixth, Two Thousand and Six.

I am going to skip Angel; we all know what's going on there. If you REALY want me to do it tell me (I might think about it)

Death is always a trial, especially when they are so young, with so much potential. We must try and remember Mimi, as we knew her best…

This time we were sitting all together in the front pew, where the family normally sits. Mimi's mother was there too. But, unlike April and Angel's she didn't ignore us, or attack us, she talked to us, accepting us.

Behind us were from some girls from the Cat Scratch Club, Benny, and Life support. Bringing the count to twenty-five.

Roger couldn't handle it, he was a wreak, he thought she was saved that Christmas eve, but that was only the beginning.

The ambulance came and took her away. We followed right after them. The doctors gave us a grim report. She had phenomena, frostbite, withdraws and, of course, AIDS. Roger ignored him completely continuously telling him that she was awake and coherent when we found her, that she wasn't that bad.

She didn't last long in the hospital, the fever came back, and an infection settled in her lungs, it just went on and on. Roger never once left her side.

He had to be pulled away from her bed when the funeral home came. His eyes were tired and tear stained, his body, broken from a combination of exhaustion and sorrow. Collins stayed beside him the entire time, his rock. I felt, useless.

We started a tradition that day, putting a vase with three roses on her casket, one for her, one for April and one for Angel.

We left, slowly, in the cemetery; she was laid next to Angel, whose grave was still dirt and frost covered.

We ate quietly with Benny and her mother, back at the apartment.

"I think I am going to head back to Santa Fe." Roger quietly said. That brought about a wave of astonishment. He hadn't talked hardly at all.

"It's amazing, you can lose yourself there," He turned to me, ""Mark, I have never seen any thing like it- no people, no sign of humanity no matter how hard or far you look." He turned to Maureen, slowly getting more worked up, "Maureen, you would be in heaven, the amount of conservation laws being broken would keep you busy for months." Pausing, "But, most of all I wouldn't remember her there."

He laid his head down on the table, barely missing the untouched plate of food, and started to cry again.

Collins found me while I was trying to fit all of the food in the refrigerator, "Mark, he is bad, real bad, he isn't going to make it."
"What are you saying? Of course he is, he's stubborn." I replied standing back up, casserole in hand.
"No, he wasn't near this bad when April died, and he barely lived through that."
"He will get through it. I know he will."

Within the week we admitted Roger into the hospital.