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Crying

I can’t quit crying.

I sat at my dad’s grave the other night as dusk approached and I thought my entire body would empty of its contents and substance. I cry driving. I cry lying in bed. I cry in the shower. I cry on the couch.

In the midst of losing my dad, I have also been challenged with a daughter’s connection and her respect for the way I have made decisions in wake of the divorce and my lack of throwing up walls of protection for myself.

I have lost the daily investment in my younger daughter’s lives as it has become easier for them to ignore me than to need me. They are teenagers, so I wonder if I were still at home if they would care anyway.  That is a mystery.

I have minimized the chance to make an impact in the life of my future son-in-law because of my impasse with my eldest.  He says it is not so, but since I am a guilt vacuum I will tend to teeter toward my negativity until I can prove differently.

All of this stuff makes you cry.

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