To All the Men I’ve Loved Before: Thank You, Next

Tom. Trevor. Kyle. David.

That feels so fucking good.

You see, I never expected to write a post in which I used your actual names. I envisioned a blog I’d title something vague—Letters to My Exes and Ohs, for example—and use specific memories or words I thought you’d recognize to indicate which ex I was referencing in that letter.

But then Ariana Grande came through with a song that empowered me to speak to you directly (I’ll pause for your laughter over the fact that a pop song influenced me to write today. Welcome to the mind of Kendall Fisher! Lol). And even better—this song is almost exactly the way I’ve written all those letters to you in my head time and time again.

Society has set this precedent that you’re supposed to hate your exes. But I’ve never agreed with that.

All I’ve ever wanted to say was…Thank you.

So grab a glass of wine or whiskey or tequila (you all differ in taste). Here’s a toast to you: Continue reading

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My Mom Died 7 Years Ago: The Truth About Why I Stopped Trying to Let Go

It’s been seven years, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was sometime after midnight, and I was wearing an oversized blue sweater with a pair of pink Victoria’s Secret sweats that I stole from her closet. My sister and I were each clenching tight to one of her hands, while my brother sat on the couch across from us with his elbows on his knees, hunched over in disbelief but prepared accept whatever was about to come his way. He was 16. My dad sat at the end of her bed, probably rubbing her feet—she always loved when he did that—but I couldn’t tell you for sure because I didn’t have the courage to look his way in those moments.

Her breathing had slowed, but with each inhale we could hear the agonizing sound of water that had begun filling her lungs—a sign the inevitable was about to come.

And within minutes, the inevitable did come.

My mother took one final, slow breath.

Continue reading