It's been eight weeks since my mother died. And as I often have done on those Sundays since, I was awake around 5:30 this morning. But my mourning mood has mostly come to me later, as I've been spending the day alone, cleaning and doing laundry and doing dishes and doing little things for the sake of grief and remembrance: sent a message to a
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My biggest comfort after both my father and later my mother died was beginning to realize that now they lived in my heart and mind the way they were when life was best for them, and that the hard last years were gone. But I know it's different for everyone.
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One of my treasured possessions is a note she wrote then--"I couldn't have wished for a better friend." I was glad that we found that place, because before then, there were struggles.
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*hugs*
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