Margaret thought of all she knew for certain, that day would always follow night that love was never wasted nor was it lost.
But most important of all, she explained that it was all right to say ‘No. I disagree.’ that was a gift. I understood it was power. The power to think my own thoughts. The power to believe in myself.
My mother, Abra, had taught me that all people are made from the same dust. When our days here are gone, all men and women enter the same garden.
Good fortune can take forever to get to you, but as it turns out, sorrow is as quick as a shot.
The nature of love had totally escaped her until now. She had thought that if you lost it, you could never get it back, like a stone thrown down a well. But it was like the water at the bottom of the well, there when you can’t even see it, shifting in the dark.
She was so busy forgetting, she couldn’t take a single step into the future.
The frightened walk away when love is difficult. I know that now. You have to be willing to give everything away. You have to be willing to end up with nothing. Only then will your heart be whole.
What men yearn for they often destroy.
I never even believed in happiness. I didn’t think it existed. Now look at me. I’m ready to believe in just about anything.
Remember what I’ve told you. Remember me.
The more you feel, the stronger you are.
The voice that arises out of the silence is something no one can imagine until it is heard. It roars when it speaks, it lies to you and convinces you, it steals from you and leaves you without a single word of comfort.
I wasn’t quite as certain that I knew her soul. When it came right down to it, I wasn’t sure she knew me either.
The sisters were glad to be together. They had the easy sort of relationship where they didn’t have to speak to be understood.
We stood and watched as God abandoned us, and then we did the best we could.
I saw the end of his life right there in that single moment. His pride, his decency, his secrets, his death.
Only her death could prove her innocence; a circle of impossible, deathly judgement.
That’s why there are ten gates to pass through before you reach the garden. If life were easy there would be one gate. There would be no gates at all.
In losing a friend, she is reminded of all she has lost and all she stands to lose again. There is nothing to be done to make it any easier. We all grieve alone.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a mistake for people like us to be tied to a place. If we weren’t meant to be ready and willing to wander. If everything we needed was contained in who we were. And what we remember.