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A couple of years ago there was a flood in her basement. I went home with her to help clean it up and discovered two absolute treasures, an old diary and a collection of letters from my dad to her. They were written during the same time period. It was fascinating to have a glimpse into her life when she was in her late teens and early twenties. It was strange to read about her going to play tennis or going skiing when I've never seen her do either of those things. It was strange to read about a man named Gordon, who she was dating when she met my dad, and to continue reading about her emerging feelings for Craig, my dad.
It has been hard. I'm not sure what to do for her. She is stubborn and independent and wants more than anything to preserve her house as my brother's and my inheritence. That isn't going to work because she needs that money to live on. And that's exactly what she should use it for.
Aging - it's just hard to watch. It's hard to cope with. It's hard to deal with. It's just hard, hard, hard. I love her and at the same time she drives me crazy. I constantly remember the good things though, all of the years and the things, so many things, that she had done for me. I wish I could be better. I wish things could be better for her.
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