My Mother had been dead eighteen months, four days, sixteen
hours, thirty-seven minutes and ten, eleven, twelve...seconds. I was still having problems. I was healing from her passing but very, very slowly. I thought I was going mad at first but once I started reading and
speaking with people who had lost a parent or parents, I found out that I was quite
sane in fact; which was the most troubling part about it.
You mean to tell me people have been
emotionally devastated like me throughout humankind trying to stay somewhat
functional with their daily lives dealing with the bullshit that is going on
inside me right the fuck now? How had
society been so progressive in our history?
And the last query that I had just asked myself gave me great pause and
helped me immeasurably for my future mental state and future productivity.
Just after my Mother’s passing I would break down crying any
and everywhere. But for the past twelve months
those bad times of missing her only came when I was at my home. Why was that?
Like now, I am at home and I am almost inconsolable with my grieving
with my loss which had happened eighteen months, four days, sixteen hours,
forty-one minutes and forty-five, forty-six…seconds in my past.
(to be continued...)
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