Today I was studying half-heartedly at the library when my mother called me in tears, because she was trying to decide what items to place inside the vault with my grandmother's ashes. Grief is a multi-layered creature, and I'm pretty sure that when you lose someone whom you love very much, the pain never entirely goes away, but rather grows to lie dormant inside a little nerve in your cheek until your mind dangerously lingers a little too long on a memory or until an object, sight, smell, sound triggers a flood of tears. My mom has been taking everything the hardest, and of course I worry about her.
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