A year ago my mom was still alive today. I was busy, planning for a trip. Getting ready to leave town for three days. She called and we talked about a visit to my grandmother I was going to make. I remember being really wrapped up in packing as she was trying to talk to me. Trying to reassure me that it wasn’t me that made things weird between my family and I, that’s just how things were. We chatted about getting lunch on the following Wednesday; we would get the kid from school, maybe go to Santa Fe. We wouldn’t. She would be dead. And cremated. I would be buried in grief and alcohol and acting to the world like I had all my shit together. I didn’t. Don’t. I am exactly where I was this time last year. Preparing for a three day trip to the same state I was in when she died. The only difference is that on this day last year she was still alive. And now she’s not.

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