He'd do what he always did, find the sweet among the bitter.

He'd learned long ago: perfection isn't what families are all about.

After a lifetime of nods, frowns and stoic smiles, they were both fluent in emotional shorthand.

I think I get it now. It doesn't matter how nice home is--it just matters that it feels like home.

There are people in our lives whom we love, and lose, and unfailingly long for. They orbit our hearts like Halley’s Comet, crossing into our universe only once, or if we are lucky, twice in a lifetime.

Like so many things Henry had wanted in life -- like his father, his marriage, his life -- it had arrived a little damaged. Imperfect. But he didn't care, this was all he'd wanted. Something to hope for, and he'd found it. It didn't matter what condition it was in.

I had my chance.' He said it, retiring from a lifetime of wanting. 'I had my chance, and sometimes in life, there are no second chances. You look at what you have, not what you miss, and you move forward.