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A wet sabbath.

When my parents divorced there was bad blood. I still remember clearly my mother begging my Dad to stay, but he didn't. The same year I remember my Mum on the phone saying No to my Dad when he begged to come back. If I remember that much, my older brothers would remember more.

My parents were young. By 21, my Mum had 5 kids all under 5. I commend her for doing so well. Issues that my siblings have now are nothing compared to how they could have been given the rocky upbringing.

When they both remarried again; relationships turned more sour. I don't know why exactly, but they were sour for 26 years.

Mitchy pointed out my mother speaking with my Step-Mother today in the sacrament hall today. That's never happened. Ever. Any communication they've ever had has been with my Dad as piggy-in-the-middle and it was never nice.

I don't think tragedy necessarily brings people together, but more it gives people the opportunity to see who is dependable during a hard time and offers absolute solidity to relationships that are stretched so thin they're actually defunct.

My Mum did a lot of background work when Jazz died and I made sure my paternal family knew that. I now know, after today, that her input was appreciated.

Improvement in small steps.
I'm glad it happened.

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