I was thinking today about how sad I was that my Aunt Marilyn wouldn't read it. She passed away last year. She was young (in her 60s), and it was an extremely sad loss for my family. I don't like to overuse the word tragic, but it was tragic. She and I used to talk about books, and about my writing and about what she wrote. It makes me so sad that I won't be able to share my finished product with her. I'm sure she would have enjoyed it, and I'm sure she would have give me her opinion on it. It's almost been a year since she passed, and that might be why I'm thinking about her. I guess I just know people I've lost would be proud of me, and they would enjoy reading what I wrote. I really believe that one of the reasons I fell into writing was because of my love for books. My love for books came from my book worm family. Both sides of my family love reading all kinds of books, and I'm so lucky to have been born into it.
Anyway, I guess I just miss my Aunt Marilyn, and I wish I could talk to her about my writing. She's missed always. I will be dedicating my book (if it gets published) to a lot of people in the living, but her name will for sure be mentioned in my dedication.
This is her cabin, and that's where I imagine her reading my book.

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