Wherever you look there is so much loss and folly to contemplate.
Death, when it's right there it doesn't seem too huge and terrible to let into your mind.
Some things I can never forget. I must not. Otherwise what do I have left?
I need them and they need me to need them
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.
Is nothing in life ever straight and clear, the way children see it?