My aunt passed away last week. Too young really ( all of 52 years). I had the misfortune of witnessing her terminal stages. I remembering being in shock for the first fifteen minutes and the rest of the day thereafter.
Not that I was particularly fond of her, but her death made me realize one thing for sure. Life is too short to really hate someone. As the embalmer handed me the rings she was wearing, it felt quite symbolic. When you die, you don’t take anything with you. All that remains is faint memories good and bad.
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