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  • I see them in the aisles of the drugstore, the grocery store, in all the restaruants and bars. A cause for celebration, yet, I turn my head away. I avert my eyes. Every March for three years it has been like this. It was his holiday. It was his birthday. Now it reminds me of the hole his passing has left.
    No matter how much I try, the truth is shamrocks hurt my heart.
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