The real hell of this," he told her, "is that you're going to get through it.

What they never tell you about grief is that missing someone is the simple part.

Maybe this is the point: to embrace the core sadness of life without toppling headlong into it, or assuming it will define your days.

The truth, or success, of any writer's story lies partly in its specificity and its emotional honesty.

Old dogs can be a regal sight. Their exuberance settles over the years into a seasoned nobility, their routines become as locked into yours as the quietest and kindest of marriages.

The real hell of this," he told her, "is that you're going to get through it.

That she was irreplaceable became a bittersweet loyalty: Her death was what I had now instead of her.