grief
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Not all famines strike the belly. Some live beneath the ribcage, where marrow aches for what it’s never given.
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Written by Shelly Moore ©️ 2025 🕊️ I. Why I’m Writing This. My dad died in April. We celebrated his life two days ago. This is fresh. Fresh fresh. This isn’t a Hallmark sermon or an attempt to convert you to my worldview. Far from. It’s my honest effort to explain — to myself, mostly,
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