I have a confession to make: I am a Morgenmuffel, which is now my favorite new word. I am not a morning person. If I have to be somewhere at a certain time in the morning, my husband Arthur will drag me out of bed to make sure I am up. When he was up, and I was still in bed, I have had entire conversations with him with no memory of them later. I
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I love your creative and truly joyous decision about a temporary place for your father’s ashes. You have a gift for telling a story in an engaging way!
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Still thinking of you!
We're finally getting the deed for my mom's house transferred over to us, and I was fine until I left the lawyer's office after signing the papers, and then... I wasn't. I made it home before I started crying (but then couldn't go in because I have a kid recovering from surgery on my couch and didn't want to upset him, so I sat in my car in the driveway until I quit). Grief is stupid.
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All of the "have to's" after a death seem to set me off, so I get it. I've done a lot of crying in my car, or in the shower.
*HUGS*
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