Into the silence rips a sound that makes me let go of Max's hand and cover my ears. It is like the strafe of a bullet, nails on a chalkboard, promises being broken. It's a note I have never heard - this chord of pure pain - and it takes a moment to realize it is coming from me.

Everyone still deserves to have their say.

It's crazy, right? To love someone who's hurt you? It's even crazier to think that someone who hurts you loves you.

See, as much as you want to hold on to the bitter sore memory that someone has left this world, you are still in it

I think once you sign on to be a mother, that's the only shift they offer.

How do you know that you are not part of a book? That someone's not reading your story right now?

After all, once you know that part of something exists, it stands to reason that the rest of it is somewhere out there, too.