ashes

Mary with her father, Bee, and Christopher, 1971.

Years have passed but I think about Mary every day. I hear her voice and I’m still arguing with her, in my mind and in my actions. Everything I’ve done, everywhere I’ve been, every critical choice I have made in life has been a repudiation of her choices. But without her, what am I? The depth of her addiction is reflected in the severity of my decisions, and how far I moved away from our home. 

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Ashes to Ashes

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