Do you ever miss him? Every day. Every minute. Every minute, she says. Yes, it's that way, isn't it?

I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way.

...and I suddenly feel that Henry is there, incredible need for Henry to be there and to put his hand on me even while it seems to me that Henry is the rain and I am alone and wanting him - Clare

Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust.

He was not in the house. He did not come back that night. Days went by, and at last she understood that he would not return at all.

I guess no matter what your family is like, you're not surprised.

Every minute of his life since then has been marked by her absence, every action has lacked dimension because she is not there to measure against. And when I was young I didn't understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird.