I remember the summer my aunt died. I was eight. The day of her funeral, we went back to my grandparents' farm, and I wandered around by myself outside all afternoon, looking in the windows now and then at all the strangers. In the back bedroom, the one that looked out over the pasture, I saw my uncle. He was in his thirties, a very tall man, maybe 6'3", and he was sitting in my great-grandmother's lap, sobbing. She was a tiny old woman, patting his back, and his long legs were dragging on the floor. I didn't look at grownups the same way, after that.
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Reach out.
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