Like my mother before me, I have always been a good speller.

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.

Grief is at once a public and a private experience. One's inner, inexpressible disruption cannot be fully realized in one's public persona.

Time doesn’t obey our commands. You cannot make it holy just because it is disappearing.

For sure, the funeral industry seems intensely cynical to me and I don't think it is HELPING people mourn.

A mother is the portal by which you enter the world.

'Hamlet' is the best description of grief I've read because it dramatizes grief rather than merely describing it.