I'm thinking about my mother who passed away in 2015, and not that it was huge holiday celebrations but I feel a noticeable space in not having her to think about. I feel both free and guilty at the thought of freedom. I try to think about things we did when I was a child because that feels more neutral, yet oddly there aren't a lot of memories. Or they're so normal that there's no huge emotional payoff.
It’s like I feel loved like I finished a book and while I wistful at that past story I'm sort of curious as to what my life will be like without her.
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