It's so hard ... for me to go through my mom's things. I don't know exactly why that is, as most of the things I'm going through have no personal meaning for me. For instance, this morning I sorted through a box full of memorabilia from her grandchildren (my nieces and nephews), letters, and photographs. The photos are almost entirely of people, only a few of whom I know. The letters were
all from people I don't know. I'm saving them because almost all of them are thanking my parents for some kindness they bestowed; I'll scan them one of these days so my whole family can see them. I wouldn't have guessed I'd find this activity so emotionally intense, but ... I do.
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