Burell, that is hard.
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
That's really hard, Burrell.
Oh, Burrell, I'm sorry.
Oh, Burrell, that's so hard. I don't know if you need the affirmation or not, but in case you do: you get to feel however you want to feel. You don't have to feel warm and sad and happy. Maybe you will some day. Maybe you never will. That's okay either way.
(And if you don't need the affirmation, then I'll just reiterate that it's hard, and I'm sorry you're dealing with it.)
Aw, Burrell, I'm sorry you're having to deal with this too.
Well, maybe someday, it will feel different. You've just been through a lot.
Thanks everyone. I'm just having that thing where, because my feelings towards her in life were complex, so are my feelings in her loss.
Burrell, I have written and erased and written an erased a bunch, not knowing how much to say or how much to share. But I just want you to know that your sister's decisions on where to expend her energy and affection have nothing to do with you. It absolutely sucks being left to pick up the mess, and I am so sorry.
There's a bit in Gaudy Night about how sickness or death doesn't automatically make a person more lovable.
I'm so sorry Burrell.