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My niece wanted access to photo albums of my mom (burial is tomorrow) so I went through some albums. My dad made an album of the day we got married. I came across her picture. She was wearing her wedding dress and a floral wreath/crown(?). Gods, she was beautiful.
Everyfuckingday, I'd wake up to this beautiful woman and everyfuckingday I'd ask myself how the fuck did I get so damned lucky. Even in my grief, I feel lucky to have known her, to have loved her and be loved by her.
And an itty bitty part of my mind asks me, how the fuck will I ever find happiness close to that degree again
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