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A journal of ash
Singing Agathe
There was another death in my extended family over the weekend - this time my father's youngest cousin (a mere 50 years old). That marks the fifth loss in the last year and a half, and I grow so bitter with myself that I seem to fill this journal with so much death, and so little of the time in between.

It was a sudden death, though not entirely unexpected. I am not saying it should have been anticipated, though. There was simply a great loneliness in him from his mother's death in January. There is some sad sense in his body collapsing from that ache, and letting go.

And the aftermath remains embroiled in the bitter, twisting briars of his remaining family - brothers and a father who do not speak, who cut themselves off or manipulate or intimidate. It is hard to see, coming from the side of the family that would wither away without the joy and light that we bring to each other.

To Tommy, I also pray that he found his peace.
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*many hugs* It has been a lot for you, hasn't it?

Some losses have hurt more keenly than others, but it does take its toll on me.

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