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On a death, following decades of silence

Mom and Dad parted ways when I was about 5. They never formally divorced; I don’t know why and I don’t want to know why.

I’m not sure when was the last time I saw my dad. My best guess is when I was about 13, because I remember what we did (trip to a nearby lake) but there’s no record of it, no photos, no nothing.

My dad’s youngest sister told me dad died about an hour ago. I don’t feel sad, not really. Most awful feelings have already been discussed, cried over and have been mostly accepted and passed through in the 20+ years since he’s not lived with us.

I simply don’t know how to process it (and yes, the fact that I have a depressive disorder has to do with it)

One more to the “reasons why this year is supremely strange” pile.

Evening note: It's funny, isn't it? There's a distinct hole in my stomach, but I cannot discern its shape, what it's made of or why it's there.

Yesterday, I literally didn't sleep at all the night before, gave platelets and plasma, took a one hour nap halfway through the day, woke up to celebrate a birthday party, and wrote and posted two write-ups before going to bed at my usual time. It's kind of amazing to me how functional I was for most of it. That nap did wonders. This morning I woke up feeling more like death than usual. I'm assuming they are related but morning are almost always bad for me. Today has been a bit of reading and a lot of writing. I was worried that rushing out a bunch of write ups would mean a quality hit but frankly I'm starting to doubt that. I've seen a lot of very short but fully informative noding this year and it's made me seriously reexamine the emphasis that I've put on reaching or exceeding five-hundred words. I've been year of reexamination in general.


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