When my mum died, my Dad was big on throwing everything; and so I kept as much ephemera as I could spirit away to my own room. Bits of it went slowly, clothes that no-longer smelled of her or fitted me, but i've kept bits of it. I still wear some of her rings every day, to the extent that i've got deep dents in my fingers where they sit. Death is weird.
It's so weird. Time is weird too. It changes things and people so slightly, but then one day you look at a photo and you realize you've been remembering your grandmother wrong. (Or I do, at least. She had brown eyes? I swear they were green.)
i know there are many states that wouldnt recognize. you may want to look into drawing up power of attorney documents for each other, which stupid bigots cant circumvent
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BRING ON THE NUTELLA. When I'm 90.
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