It’s 2:23 A.M.

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It’s 2:23 A.M.
Grandpa died today.
I saw him a month ago and he looked miserable with those tubes up his nose.
I don’t know the man.
I’m not mourning, I can’t.
I don’t know how to mourn.
Am I supposed to be crying?
Dear Anonymous Grandfather,
I’m sorry that I can’t cry for you.





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