A day of joys and sorrows
“Jen? Sweetie? I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s 9:15. What time is the funeral?” I start the long, slow process of dragging myself to consciousness, pulling off the sleep mask and yanking out the ear plugs as I mutter through the night guard, “It’s at 12:15. Sorry, forgot to set my alarm.” “No, it’s …
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