The Last Photo Of Lucille

Seen with her ever loving brother Rob. Pretty hands. Bit grumpy as I recall and only he could make her laugh at such a time.

Today's the anniversary of her death. I have to (hate to) admit that the pain does recede and dull. Scab and scar over. My grief then was continuously overwhelming without relenting, for a long long long long time. I had an unwavering faith in heaven and so on at the time which didn't stop the pain of seperation, but perhaps made me accept things differently. Now, I think the whole thing sucks. And people who try to make me believe in heaven seem like they are rubbing salt in my wounds. Taunting me cruelly.

When she (might have) turned 21, the pain all came back. Sometimes I want to make myself feel it, but it's not that easy. Other times I think that I'm not thinking about it but get innundated with memory and wanting and don't know (nor question) where it comes from. But it comes and I cry as if it was yesterday, and not 1982, 26 years ago.

There's a thing I wrote which you've probably read but if you haven't and want to, it's here...