Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain.

People grow up by living.

Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain. It was that day that I knew I wanted to tell the story of my family. Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.

There wasn't a lot of bullshit in my heaven.

Almost everyone in heaven has someone on Earth they watch, a loved one, a friend or even a stranger who was once kind, who offered warm food or a bright smile when one of us had needed it. And when I wasn’t watching I could hear the others talking to those they loved on Earth: just as fruitlessly as me, I’m afraid. A one-sided card cajoling and coaching of the young, a one way loving and desiring of their mates, a single-sided card that could never get signed.

Learn a language of another country and then you can go to that country: a place where the problems of your family will not follow. A language they do not speak.

Then a little voice in him said, Let go, let go, let go