A few years later, after losing my cat Franc, I had written something to help myself get over another death. This was a composition notebook I had written in every time I felt upset. Even though it was written from the view of an 11-13 year old, I still remember what I was thinking when I wrote it. I lost the book in one of the moves.

That book, which I wrote at a younger age, talked all about the pets I had lost. Occasionally, I would find things I wrote down about my mother, who I didn’t see much of for awhile, asking why she left. It was a strange time for me because I was getting used to a parent who hadn’t been around much before, but it was for the better.

Finding the book when I was around 16 felt really weird. It felt like I was finding someone else’s journal. I didn’t feel like it was the same person. It didn’t really click that it was me until I read the parts about me basically saying all of my emotions on the different pages. For an 11 year old’s mind, it was a depressing read.

Even now, it’s a year and a half since I found it, but it’s something I’ll probably always remember. Family you lose isn’t something a person just forgets and neither is the family member who didn’t take responsibility like they were supposed to when a couple children are involved. It was difficult to look back at, but worth it.

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