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Yeah. There are certain records, that, like afterthefact, I very strongly associate with my father's death. The prime examples are probably Sgt. Pepper's and After The Goldrush, both of which I adore, but very much link in my mind to my father digging them out and handing me them, when I was 15 and first really exploring "good music". I'm not someone that really gets melodramatically upset about anything, so it's not like I can't listen to them any more. In fact, I often do. But when I put them on it's usually to really focus on them, more as a link to my father than as pieces of music. I'm sure there are happier examples of the same sort of thing, but they're not coming to mind right now.
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The toothaches got worse, she dreamed of disembodied voices from whose malignance there was no appeal, the soft dusk of mirrors out of which something was about to walk, and empty rooms that waited for her. Your gynaecologist has no test for what she was pregnant with.
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