I couldn't have foreseen all the good things that have followed my mother's death. The renewed energy, the surprising sweetness of grief. The tenderness I feel for strangers on walkers. The deeper love I have for my siblings and friends. The desire to play the mandolin. The gift of a visitation.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Here's a thing about the death of your mother, or anyone else you love: You can't anticipate how you'll feel afterward. People will tell you; a few may be close to right, none exactly right.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft

Do not read beauty magazines. They only make you feel ugly.

Don't waste your time on jealousy.

Worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.