I wrote my mom that I’m having a hard time feeling as if Aunt Carol’s death really happened, and that’s true.  When my mom called and told me that she’d died, I cried for awhile and I was pretty upset, but in my heart, I don’t feel it. Maybe it’s because I can still picture her perfectly in my mind, hear her voice perfectly in my head.  I can remember the quality of her skin, all the little veins and the way it made her look like her cheeks were blushing when they weren’t.

I’m hoping that writing about her will make me feel like this has happened. I feel so guilty that I can feel so much pain over the end of a fake relationship, when it barely even registers that one of my most beloved people is gone, and I’ll never see them again.

It makes me very frustrated. And I am still very bitter, which is even more frustrating.

I’ll write more when I feel like I can.