She raised me without restraints. Taught me that the earth beneath mountain streams was just as beautiful as sky high peaks. Showed me grace when I peeled dusty yellow wall paper from the walls. I remember her while I listen to Fleetwood Mac. Her raspy voice floating from the windows driving 10 over the speed limit along back roads. I feel her absence standing on lake shores and driving past rows of wild sunflowers. I was raised to march to the beat of my own drum, but the music sounds different without her. She taught me to love with my entire chest, and that crying is never a bad way to let it out. Here lies Susan, black ink on veins that lead to heart strings. Friend. Daughter. Mother.

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