Daughter of Mary Lou
Writing myself through grief. Of mother loss, death, dying, hospice, liquid morphine hourly, and living through it.
In those moments, I’ve decided that’s one of the worst feelings to have — that they hear your cry for help and can’t won’t aren’t able to help or are in denial about “didn’t know she’d take it this far.”
Forgive them, they’ve got their own shit.
Forgive you, you’ve been dealing with too many assholes for too fucking long.
