My mom died of breast cancer when I was 13. She left me guidance—and bras.
4 months, 1 week ago

My mom died of breast cancer when I was 13. She left me guidance—and bras.

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Also, they never went away. I had finally received the soft and deathly embarrassing suggestion from a male relative “I think it’s time for a bra.” I went shopping with my mom to buy the tiniest support bras that existed. “That bra is too small,” she snapped upon seeing my mom’s tropical flowers. “You don’t need to know that.” What she meant was: Sizes across brands are different, and so it’s a number not worth caring about. “I compose letters all the time in my head, thinking of things I want to tell you and worry that I won’t be here to do so.” She recorded videos with her friend Gail; every Tuesday they got chai lattes and sat on our porch to create a diary of her life in case she wasn’t there to tell us one day.

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