deja vu in a nightmarish way

Twenty some years ago, I made each one of my siblings a photo album of their lives. 

I gathered all the best from my mother's shoe boxes full of pictures. 

I organized them, picked quotes, wrote them out in my most careful calligraphy, and put it all together.

Now I am doing it again, but this time it is for a memorial slide show.

The first time was heartbreaking, but it was also lovely to sort through the photos, reliving mostly highs and some lows.

This time, I want to pull my skin off, I want to be like an armadillo and be safe inside some armor.

My heart beats like it doesn't mean it.

I am always at the doorstep of weeping.

I want to fight with doctors and hospitals and hire lawyers and scream.

But, I am looking through photos, heartbroken, with very few lovely feelings.

I hope this is the last time I have to relive this nightmare.