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When Grief Visits

Dear L,

Today, I cried. No, I sobbed. Thick-throated, wet sobbing. I read all the #flyfreedearzane.  At first I thought I was crying for Zane, or for Alyssa, and definitely Joey. Then I realized I was mostly crying for you. I was crying for your pain, for your hurt, for the terrible, terrible life you were lotteried.

You died alone. You died after a childhood no one should have. You died after losing your first born. You died after being raped. You died after being humiliated. Drunk. Drugged. Despised. Hurt. Abandoned. Used.

You died alone. No one was holding your hand. Remembering good times. Discussing your wishes. Loving you.

You died alone.

I can barely tolerate to think of the end. The years long end. Especially the last six months end. The overwhelming hurt, the isolation that comes with burning every bridge in the city. The overwhelming hurt, the isolation that comes with torn childhoods.  The overwhelming hurt, the isolation that comes with addiction. Self-hate. Unclear think…

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