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Aunts, uncles, cousins I’d shared holidays with went quiet or openly hostile. The loneliness of it was sharper than I’d expected, a specific ache, the feeling of being erased from a narrative I’d been part of my whole life.
Then my grandmother called.
Nana was in her eighties, her voice thinned by time but still precise. She said, “I heard what happened.continue reading …
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