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I’ve never sung to anyone before.

But I sang to my mother.

Sitting beside her coffin, my hand resting on her cold, cold shoulder, I stared at her new form, feeling all crumpled and small. The computer played softly on a nearby flower stand, the music already queued for when her guests arrived.

In a broken, child-sounding voice, I found myself singing along.

Sing me back home with a song I used to hear
Make my old memories come alive
Take me away and turn back the years
Sing me back home before I die

My mother was already dead, but I sang her home anyway.

I didn’t realize this was a significant moment, but now that I’m months into this thing, I know it was a significant moment.

Here’s to you if you go with your gut. If you grab those flashes, even when you don’t know they’re flashes, or understand what they mean.

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