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Day 124

Updated: Jun 26, 2019

There is a wedding party at my hotel. The women are in beautiful, flowery summer dresses with matching hats. The girls are dressed as miniaturized ladies. The men are all in black suits with ties to indicate personality, profession, or position.

When you have a child, you become another species. The caterpillar to butterfly isn’t dramatic enough because the butterfly will always be part caterpillar. The metamorphosis more than makes you fly. When your child dies, it’s as if the universe smashes you into a permanent larva. All you can think of is how much you’ve lost. You wander looking for your cocoon. Where is the do-over, the back button, the rewind, the reverse? Mangled, you can’t move forward. You just wait to succumb to the stomping.

Every large wedding party has characters. The super Type A person who needs everything to be perfect. The child that speaks or dances at inappropriate times. The unwelcome guest. I don’t know who is who here. I just see the families and think how lucky they are. They have love and they’re making even more of it. My mouth is sour with the sweetness of it. “Best wishes” doesn’t even begin to say it.

I go to my hotel room’s minibar and find two types of water, a coke, and a diet coke. I don’t know what the word “bar” means in England.

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Unknown member
Jul 17, 2018

Day 125 is at

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