““All I had left were her ashes and her clothes. I tried them all on locked in her bedroom. She had followed her own mother’s footsteps. I danced laughing crazy and then crying quietly. I didn’t know whether to be angry or grateful or afraid. Angry because her actions seemed selfish, grateful that her pain had ended, or afraid it was written in our history. Angry that I didn’t stop her, instead enabled her, grateful because I had known her, loved her, or afraid I could put someone else through that pain. I’ve lived and learned now knowing that I’m strong and history does not have to repeat itself. My unclothed heart and soul are here for as long as our universe gives me the privilege. All I do know is we never really know what anyone is thinking or committed to, but we do know the clothes they wear.””
