Death, when it's right there it doesn't seem too huge and terrible to let into your mind.
The dead do not harm us, only the alive.
After a lifetime's independence– yes, selfish independence as my daughter would rightly claim – I am terrified of being reduced to childhood once more, to helplessness, to seas of confusion from which the cruel lucid intervals poke up like rock shoals.
Let her be with her memories. Better that than be aware of this reality.
Is nothing in life ever straight and clear, the way children see it?
Christmas works like glue, it keeps us all sticking together.