When I was alone in my Father's house, trying to comprehend the unfathomable event of his death, I did not want to hear any more words, condolences and "call me if you need anything." These words, though probably said with good intentions, rang hollow after receiving them one after the other. I wanted music. I just wanted to listen to music. Only music could understand and address the agony in my soul.
The sympathy cards, bought from Walgreens for $2.50, did nothing.
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