The year before I was to turn 49 was filled with dread. It wasn’t something that I was thinking about consciously. It was instead a subliminal, noticeable relief of the passing of each month.
My mother had died suddenly shortly after she turned 49. The event was traumatic, not only because I lost someone I loved dearly but also because her birthday in February was preceded by the usual New Year’s resolution to lose weight.
On
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