Dead people don’t look right

I’ve only been here for less than two whole days and it feels like an eternity. This intense grief I feel isn’t for my uncle — it’s for my mom. And my cousin and aunt. I know exactly what my cousin is feeling and it reminds me of losing my mom. And my aunt reminds me so much of my mom.

My cousin’s eulogy was so touching. I was sobbing by the end of it thinking about three years ago. We, my sister and I, weren’t even able to give a eulogy. I don’t even know what I could’ve said because I knew so little about her. And at the time, I don’t think either of us was clear headed enough to write one.

Wednesday night I pictured my mom in my head — alive and moving and breathing. And I realized why it is I don’t think about her much because when I do, it makes me sob for missing her.

My favorite aunt tonight was telling me how she thinks my mom died of loneliness. And I can believe that. My mom liked to swim and jacuzzi with my aunt and uncle. They’d drive up from their place to my mom’s to go to the pool with her. And my aunt told me how my mom said she was afraid to go home because there was no one there. So they’d take her home. She missed my dad so much. She was so heartbroken. So heartbroken. And I didn’t understand. I wasn’t understanding.

You can’t regret the past, right? Because there isn’t anything you can do to change it. But it can haunt you.

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