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Familius Interruptus

When my mom died, I felt completely lost and totally incapable of figuring out what to do next, but I had no doubts about what to do first.  Oddly enough, I knew I needed a journal and a little black dress.  The first was where I was going to write down all my memories about my mom so that I wouldn't lose them.  The second was to wear when I gave her eulogy.  When times are hard, I like to look awesome.  It makes me feel more put together than I really am, and I knew I'd need all the help I could get to make it through the memorial service.

That's neither here nor there.  Right after my mom died, I wrote in the journal a lot, as many of the good things as I could remember.  And then I put it aside for a while.  And now I've picked it up again.  Except now I'm writing down all the things I left out before.  Things that in the past I've had a hard time talking about, much less committing to paper.  But the last time I picked up the journal, I realized there were all these things in there that'd I'd forgotten, as though I put them on paper for safekeeping and I didn't have to hold onto them anymore.  They were there in case I needed them, but the burden of carrying them wasn't on me anymore.  Shockingly enough, that works for the bad stuff too.

So now I'm writing down all the rest, the hard times, and the moments that I won't put on the internet.  I don't want to think about them anymore, and I'm hoping that if I put them on paper, I won't have to think about them anymore.  I can put them there for safekeeping.

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