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Tears flowing down my face, embracing the blanket in front of me. My insides feels as cold as the New York January that is plastered through the windows in front of me. I was not able to process on what happened 4 hours ago. I was not able to process that my mom died 4 hours ago. I was not able to process that my mom hung herself 4 hours ago. I feel so empty somewhere deep inside me, but I can't locate where the feeling is coming from.
All I could think about was my beloved mother laying on the brown wooden tiles in her American Dream. All that I could think about was when I was lifting up my mother knowing that she was dead. But still wanted to feel her love in my arms one last time. I cried squeezing to her warm hands one last time. I cried kissing my mother beloved face one last time. I cried trying to hug her one last time. I cried saying to my beloved mother that I will make her proud one last time. That day on January 20, 2015 I had said good bye to my mother.

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