It has been my comment to my Auntie, yesterday morning, when we went to a funeral home to ask for quotes.
What's awful and odd it'sthat we need the excuse to buy some clothes for my Mum, so that she couldn't figure out the real reason we needed to go out together.
We were talking about cremation and pertinent information with a man, who looked like a mafioso, while her, conscious and coherent, was waiting for us to get back.
It's like living a neverending nightmare.
And then, once at home again, everything's back to "normal", chatting, joking, smoking together like this evil illness is going to heal and life could go back to what it was.
But what I can't tolerate for the most it's all these religious people that remind this "good" god who's making our lifes a hell.
It's like a slap in the face.
Now, after she asked the doctor today how long she's got left, I've lost any leftover of sense of humour I had.
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