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MOMS,

Nice evening.  L had a reading, which provided a decent distraction from everything that’s going on.  (Work shit, largely.  Nothing interesting).

Since last week (I’m sorry it’s been so long), I sorta patched things over with dad.  I know he’s nowhere near done with those first spasms of grieving for you yet– you were so much the center of what he was (I see that now)– & the whole group therapy thing, in retrospect, was a BAD idea for dad.

Fuck almighty.  You try to do something nice, if totally unwelcomed, intrusive, whatever, for a guy…

So what’s the plan here, moms?  What do you need us to do?  I’m guessing that a big part is to stop drinking, & smoking (whatever), & video-gaming (w.r.t. dad & Eric, respectively, but probably me, too) ourselves into numbness; but what SHOULD we be feeling?  Where should we be going?  You were always the compass, as mooreless as I felt growing up.  I always could call you and at least feel better about the poor decisions I was making.

I never bought into L’s ghost stories, but I’m willing to give them a try for you, mom.

Hit me back.  I miss the shit out of you.

Ian

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