There's a cliff at the end point of a person's life; most us of peer over the edge of it, hanging on. That's why, when someone chooses to let go, it's so dramatically visible. The body will seem almost transparent. The eys will be looking at something the rest of us can't see.

The right idea is the one you can't stop thinking about; the one that's in your head first thing in the morning.

My mother walks forward. She's crying, but there's a smile on her face. For God's sake, is it any wonder I can't ever understand what you people are feeling?

I never said I do not remember, my grandmother corrects. I said I prefer to forget.

Grief is a curious thing, when it happens unexpectedly. It is a Band-aid being ripped away, taking the top layer off a family. And the underbelly of a household is never pretty, ours no exception.

There's that unwritten schism that literary writers get all the awards and commericals writers get all the success.

My whole life was about her, what if her whole life wasn’t all about me?