I've grieved enough for his life cut short and for mine for running on for so long with so little in it. It's weakness now, but I suppose I am crying out of a general sense of loss. Maybe I am mourning for the human condition.
I will continue my path, but I will keep a memory always.
Wherever you look there is so much loss and folly to contemplate.
Anything that makes it easier to understand, makes it a little easier to bear.
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.