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Cleaning is a mindless job and as I scrubbed other women’s floors and toilets today I filled that empty space with thoughts of my next blog. This has been an extremely cathartic experience for me, so I eagerly await the opportunity to sit down here each evening and talk to you, tell you my truth as my advocate puts it.

However, I can’t do it tonight.  I’m sorry.  I am like a dry well.  What normally oozes out of my fingertips and onto the keyboard gushed forth from my eyes earlier this evening.  And, I’m dry.  I’m tired and ready for bed.

When I read all of the beautiful, edifying comments I bawled like a teething infant.  I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tried.  My two youngest children ran in the room and asked if I was crying about Papa.  My dad died in April, and they’ve watched me mourn for the last six months.  They just assumed Mama was sad about Papa again.

I told them that people we’ve never met were saying really nice things to Mama, making Mama feel very happy.  My three year old looked at me like I had lost my mind.  My 6 year old son, my beautiful little blonde haired boy with the gigantic brown eyes, grinned his toothless grin and said, “Wow!  You have a lot of friends!”

Out of the mouths of babes.

Thank you for reaching out to me, a stranger.  Thank you for being my friends by encouraging me and helping me navigate these muddy waters of my yet uncharted new life.

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