He gently touched his mother's cheek, felt her sorrow slip over his fingertips.

When you look into your baby’s eyes,” Lacy said softly, “you see everything you hope they can be…not everything you wish they won’t become.

You want to write something as good as what you've read.

Like the teens I worked with, I understood the need for miracles--they kept reality from paralyzing you

Asking me to describe my son is like asking me to hold the ocean in a paper cup

I don't know what it is about death that makes it so hard. I suppose it's the one-sided communication; the fact that we never get to ask our loved one if she suffered, if she is happy wherever she is now...if she is somewhere. It's the question mark that comes with death that we can't face, not the period.

There's no way to convince her that just because you put half. planet between you and someone else, you can't drive that person out of your thoughts. Believe me. I've tried.