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My grandmother died in May and my aunt died of cancer two days ago. In the case of the latter, I said everything I needed to say to her, I wept for ten minutes straight as I told her she was the sanest of the three women in my family and that I thanked her for nurturing my intellectual curiosity. Unless something unexpectedly wells up out of nowhere, I have made peace with the fact that she is no longer here. It's really weird. Until recently, I hadn't experienced a death in the family to be able to compare it with the pain of a breakup, but dare I say, my breakups have caused me significantly more emotional distress. This has caused me to question whether our society's culture of serial monogamy is healthy.
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