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October 2, 2024

Passion is always a mystery

and unaccountable

I deeply underestimated how difficult it would be to write about the Matthew years — I’ve been surprised at how many complicated feelings it has brought to the surface. It has initiated many a grief wave — I miss Eric’s steadfast and loving support as I worked through so much of this throughout our marriage. He was always, always willing to listen to a Matthew story, no matter how awful.

Thank you for sticking by me as I work through multiple drafts of this story and sift through old notebooks, letters, and photos.

I ended my timeline in my last post at April 1996, when I moved back to Utah. I believe Matthew and I were separated for around nine months. Part of that time was spent trying to live at home (before I found out my mom read my journals) and part of that time was spent living in Ogden with my friend Sheelagh.

A photo of Matthew and I in 1996, we are in coats, sitting next to each other in a canyon.
Caption: Matthew and I the week he flew out to move me to Provo, then Ogden.
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