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In April of 2002, a friend of mine ended a long struggle with bipolar disorder. My father went in for cancer surgery (third major surgery) the day of the memorial service. My mom came to pick me up after the service, and I asked her how my dad was doing. At that point I realized that she had probably been crying for the whole drive to get me, and all she was able to say was, "Not good."
She didn't have to say anything else.
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