When my grandmother was dying, she was in hospice care. On my birthday, she woke up just enought to wish me a happy birthday. She then slipped back into her sleep and didn't wake back up. Listening to what the nurse told me was "the death rattle" still haunts me to this day.

A few days after her death, I was crying to my then (now ex!) boyfriend, who promptly told me I was over reacting to her death. I lost my grandmother, and I lost a big part of that relationship too. I still struggle with crying about loss to my now husband.

Edited: to make it clear I didn't marry that loser.

Trump winning a second term and my realization that I don’t belong in the country I was born in, grew up in and fought for.