Sometimes we all get mad, etc. We all handle it differently. Yell, scream, walk away, whatever it may be. Seems as if I cannot do it to anyone else’s satisfaction. Raise my voice or yell, I catch hell. Don’t speak, catch hell. Talk normal tone, chastised that I am being condescending to others when I’m really not. Through the years, since 97′ especially, I’ve chosen to generally keep to myself. No purpose to open up about much. Folks generally in life don’t care. That’s all of us. We look out, in the end, for ourselves. That’s self preservation.

So, my oldest destroyed part of something yesterday that has been in my possession for a long time. It’s an antique of my moms. Not like 60 years, but at least 30 for half of the box of stuff. That means at least half of the box had stuff that is 30 years old or older.

My oldest just doesn’t pay attention to crap. If it isn’t that important to her, to hell with it. She destroyed parts of this yesterday. We haven’t spoken since. Zilch. I have no plans to start soon either.

See, this is as least the third thing like this. It isn’t like she can’t not do it. She pays no attention to, nor does she respect others stuff. She just doesn’t. It isn’t in her to care. That hurts, and it will for a long time.

See, when someone dies, you don’t have them to be with obviously. You have whatever remnants you held onto. Memories for me are scant as I’ve tried to quash the memories of a dying person. I just can’t find memories. So, now my list of items is dwindling too. Not fun. Not at all.

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