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

A young nurse, someone new whom he didn't recognise, came up to Henry and patted him on the arm. "Are you a friend or a family member?" She whispered the question in his ear, trying not to disturb Sheldon. The question hung there like a beautiful chord, ringing in the air. Henry was Chinese, Sheldon obviously wasn't. They looked nothing alike. Nothing at all. "I'm distant family," Henry said.

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

The hardest choices in life aren't between what's right and what's wrong but between what's right and what's best.

It reminded him that time was short, but that beautiful endings could still be found at the end of cold, dreary days.

Henry was learning that time apart has a way of creating distance- more than mountains and time zone separating them. Real distance, the kind that makes you ache and stop wondering. Longing so bad that it begins to hurt to care so much.

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