I stopped in my tracks when I heard Terry recite this story, and held my breath, waiting to hear the finish. My own mother, a wonderful writer but deeply depressed, filled many journals. She eventually lost her sight and couldn't write anymore, and I moved her to assisted living. Cleaning out her apartment I found her journals –– with almost all the pages torn out. It filled me with an indescribable grief. When I summoned the courage to ask my mom why she'd done it, she said, "I didn't want you to remember me that way." I thought of all the sadness, disappointment and loneliness she must've poured into those pages. But it didn't, if you can believe it, occur to me until listening to this that she hadn't simply thrown out the journals -- they held some truth about her life, and by extension ours, she wanted us to know.
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