The hardest day of her life is now three years long. She’s still living that night. It must be like “Groundhog Day” every single day of her life, and she wakes up to Trump on TV instead of Sonny and Cher on the radio.
Three years and she can’t let it go. I wish for another twenty-five years of her Hell on Earth, suffering day after day after day. Death would be a blessed relief for her.