This news article is about my mother's death. Details are sparse. I hope to know more when I can talk properly to my brother tomorrow.
I keep having breakdowns with no warning, wild gaspy tears, pain and rage and screams trying to claw out of my chest. The shelter isn't the best place to have episodes; public isn't either. So I keep taking Ativan to suppress the rawest waves of emotion. At least tomorrow morning my case manager at the shelter will be on shift; maybe I can talk to him.
Gulls today ate from my hands.
Edited to add: The dog mentioned in the article, Daisy, is doing okay. My brother's family took her in.