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The Road Well-Traveled

The hospice where my Mom died nearly two months ago reached out and offered me grief therapy, so I took it. I wanted to hear what would come out of me in a safe space, with a trained professional. I figured that would tell me how I was doing. I felt like I was coping okay. Lots of tears, but getting on with it. A wise man once said, “the last one to notice the water is the fish”. I’m the fish.

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Slippery Slope

My first apartment in Wingham had a huge kitchen and livingroom, with a loft-like bedroom and bathroom at the top of a steep set of painted stairs. A few times, when my panty-hosed feet met those steps, Lisa went bye-bye. I recall slipping all the way down, my endless fall finally broken by cracking my noggin on the wooden door at the bottom.

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