Jun. 26th, 2015

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So last month my mom and I, randomly, wrote a fairy tale. Via texts. Y'know, a sentence or two at a time, back and forth.

I cleaned it up a bit for typos, auto correct shenanigans, and my mom's inability to find the quotes on her phone )




My Auntie Ethel died yesterday. This grief is strange to me--she's been fading away for years now, mentally, to the point the past few times I've seen her I'm not always sure she remembers who I am, only that she knows and likes me; my mom today said she's been missing her sister for years, and it's true. (We used to have such conversations--she was the best aunt for a precocious pre-teen, who would sit and listen and engage; I could still talk to her about what I was studying up until grad school.) And after the wrench that was my dad last year, after the pain and duty that came after his passing, this is...strangely light. I can grieve without having to worry about who will look after mom and how the hell do I administer an estate and who will take care of the cat. I can just be sad.

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September 2015

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