It feels like Adam's suicide is becoming a fact of my life- not a foreign, unknown, surreal event. I hate that it is. As the two year mark approaches ever so slowly...who invented January anyway? my mood is decidedly crabby, the tears are closer to the surface, and everything seems to be a reminder from the waiting room at work, to Grace driving Adam's old car, to any song that was played in 2016.
OMG- Mozart's Moonlight Sonata is so where I'm at.
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