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Back to basics.

I knew August was going to be hard.

And instead of counting down the days until my husband comes home from war, I'm counting down the days until the one year anniversary of my grandpa's death.
It's been 13 months since I've seen him alive. 13 mother fucking months.
I'm still crying as if August 29th, 2008 just happened.

I just want to open that chapter of my life back up. Reread the pages. Walk on the words. Find what lesson I was supposed to learn from all this because I can't get past the broken heart thing I've got going on.
My two best friends are laying side by side, six feet underground. I hope they are holding hands in heaven. I hope he is still pinching her butt as if they had just started dating and hadn't been married for 60 years. I hope they know that I loved them as much as they loved me. And I hope they know that I wanted to say goodbye.

I remember a therapist telling me once that breaking up was like a death in the family.
Fuck that lady, she doesn't know shit about death.

11:40 a.m. - 2009-08-11

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