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When I went to my Mom’s condo in early August for a visit from far-away relatives, I didn’t know how long I would be there. I had packed a bag a few times before, believing I would “know” when it was time to stay, and I did. It was clear. But I didn’t try to imagine when I would return home, because going home meant my Mom would be gone, and I wanted to put that off for as long as possible.

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