Nelson's funeral is today.
It's not the same kind of sad as when older people die.
He was 57.
My aunt is a pillar. I don't know how she does it. Everyone else is taking turns being an absolute wreck.
We went to the viewing last night. The man in the casket doesn't look like my uncle. My uncle has crinkly laugh lines around his eyes, and round rosy cheeks.
It's raining outside.
It's raining inside, too.
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