The people we most love do become a physical part of us, ingrained in our synapses, in the pathways where memories are created.

If the condition of grief is nearly universal, its transactions are exquisitely personal.

Loss doesn't feel redeemable. But for me one consoling aspect is the recognition that, in this at least, none of us is different from anyone else: We all lose loved ones; we all face our own death.

My mother never liked Mother's Day. She thought it was a fake holiday dreamed up by Hallmark to commodify deep sentiments that couldn't be expressed with a card.

The truth is, I need to experience my mother's presence in the world around me and not just in my head.

Be patient with yourself. Don't make the loss harder by thinking you should be a certain way, or have bounced back, etc.

A mother, after all, is your entry into the world. She is the shell in which you divide and become a life. Waking up in a world without her is like waking up in a world without sky: unimaginable.