Feb
10th
Fri
10th
She’s gone. She’s gone and it hurts. We will never sit around her kitchen table listening to stories about her childhood and her family again. We’ll never have another birthday party in her backyard. We’ll never watch Jeopardy and have her handily beat all of us. We’ll never walk into her bedroom and see her at her vanity table, rollers in her hair, applying lip liner. Because she is gone and it hurts. It hurts this morning. It will hurt tonight. It will hurt tomorrow when I wake up and curse myself for sleeping and having to remember it all over again.
She’s gone.
