He never spoke of that night again, not to your mother, not to anyone else. He was ashamed for her, for Mickey, for himself. In the hospital, he stopped speaking altogether. Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge. His thoughts still haunted him.' ~pg 139

Turn on the faucet. Wash yourself with the emotion. It won’t hurt you. It will only help. If you let the fear inside, if you pull it on like a familiar shirt, then you can say to yourself, “All right, it’s just fear, I don’t have to let it control me. I see it for what it is".

Sometimes you have to do things when sad things happen.

When you come to the end, that's where God begins.

Life goes quickly, doesn't it?

A memoir should have some uplifting quality, inspiring or illuminating, and that's what separates a life story that can influence other people.

There is no formula to relationships.