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The Finalest Of Final Documents
Total posts 66
Joined 6 year(s) ago
Posted 07:35 AM Tuesday, July 31, 2018   [ quote ]

When there is a death in the family, there are certain things that you know will happen. There are other things that you suspect will happen. And then there are things that are only fleeting blips of reality in your stream of consciousness, thoughts that you push away as quickly as they come to you. For me, the questions have seemed strange and foreign and at times, they have just felt wrong. Of course you can't help what pops into your head, but, when you realize what you are thinking, you tend to push certain types of thoughts away. I knew that my sister was reasonable and responsible, she always has been. She called me in early February and during our conversation about all manner of topics, she casually mentioned that she had just signed her will, arranged and paid for her final plans and did a few other things so no one else would have to do it Carton Of Cigarettes Price. And so, it was no surprise when she entered hospice that her death would be handled by a crematorium that had explicit orders for how things were to be done. The mail arrived, bringing two yellow envelopes, one addressed to my son and one to myself. I knew without seeing them what they were. Part of me did not want to open the thing at all Marlboro Cigarette Types, but what would that have done? Finally, I did, sliding my fingers under the flap and tearing the envelope open Brands Of Cigarettes. I tried to remain slightly detached, business like, as I read through papers, noting that there were several spots that I needed to sign and return to the lawyer's office as soon as possible. I even tagged one page where I needed to sign for myself and my minor child. I was glad that I was seated when I got to the final page of this sheath of papers. There amid all of the legal papers was a copy of my sister's death certificate Marlboro Menthol Lights, the most final paper you can ever receive. There was her name on the top line, her age, her education, her occupation, her ethnicity. I read it, wanting to stop, to put the paper down because it could not tell me anything I did not already know about the woman who had been my sister and my first best friend Organic Cigarettes. I could not look away, reading but not really reading the words, over and over, the paper trembling in my hand. Eventually, I put it down, wiped my eyes and got ready to face the day once again.
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