F O R T Y • F O U R

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I'm forty four and we go on a family trip to Greece.

My mother has been dead for thirty years now. I've lived longer without her than with her. It's strange to think about. Some days even, for half a second, I forget that Holly wasn't always with my father, I forget my life before, I forget about my mom. I feel awful about it, but it's the nature of human memories. If we want to cope with all the hurt we need to forget about it.

I tell the kids that this is the last place I went with my mother on a trip but I don't think they care that much. They would probably rather be at Disneyland. It's okay. They'll understand when they're older.

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