Sharing Tales Of Those We've Lost Is

But Then She Did. She Died. No More Visits, No More Phone Calls. And Without Even Realizing It, I Began To Drift, As If My Roots Had Been Pulled, As If I Were Floating Down Some Side Branch Of A River.

If You Hold Back On The Emotions--if You Don't Allow Yourself To Go All The Way Through Them--you Can Never Get To Being Detached, You're Too Busy Being Afraid.

Remember Me For These Days, Not The Old Ones.

All Parents Damage Their Children. It Cannot Be Helped. Youth, Like Pristine Glass, Absorbs The Prints Of Its Handlers. Some Parents Smudge, Others Crack, A Few Shatter Childhoods Completely Into Jagged Little Pieces, Beyond Repair.

If We Knew What Comes Next, We Never Would Have Worried.