Maybe time didn’t heal wounds exactly, but it gave you a kind of armor, or a new perspective. A way to remember with a smile instead of a sob.
One thing I can tell you for sure is this: we only regret what we don’t do in life.
Drama, she’d learned, was like good punctuation: it underscored your point.
Walk. Run. Ride.
Rain Valley newcomers pretty much fell into two groups: people running away from something and people running away from everything.
Tragedy was like that, a razor that sliced through time, severing the now from the before, incising the what-might-have-been from reality as cleanly as any surgeon’s blade.
She was touching his body with her tongue, and he felt it there, but somehow what she was doing went deeper. As if that gentle, moist tongue of hers were flicking his heart as well.
For the first time in his life, he was going to be a goddamn hero.
Those are exactly the kind of memories I try to avoid, but they’re like abestos: invisible and deadly. You need special gear to get rid of them.
I was not good at the whole making-death-a-positive-transition thing. How could I? I wanted her to fight to the last breath. It was a mistake. I should have listened to her fear, comforted her. Instead I’d promised her that everything would be okay, that she would heal.
He’s made a mistake in coming here tonight. He’d wanted to see a room filled with ruffly knickknacks and lacy gewgaws. A room like any other, to indicate that she was a woman like any other.
Sometimes love means trusting people to make their own decisions. In other words, shutting up.
Sometimes being a good friend means saying nothing.” “I’m just supposed to watch her make a mistake?” “Sometimes, yes. And then you stand by to pick up the pieces.
When you’re a mom, you learn about fear. You’re always afraid. Always. About everything from cupboard doors to kidnappers to weather. There is nothing that can’t hurt our kids, I swear.” She turned. “The irony is they need us to be strong.
I have never known how to say goodbye. It is a failing that has been with me all of my life. It’s especially problematic, given how often partings have come up.
Finding your passion isn’t just about careers and money. It’s about finding your authentic self. The one you’ve buried beneath other people’s needs.
What I know now about life is this: your mother is a part of everything you do and everything you are.
Memories are who we are. In the end, that’s all the luggage you take with you. Love and Memories are what last.
In the sea of grief, there were islands of grace, moments in time when one could remember what was left rather than all that had been lost.
I know about forgiving people and loving them anyway, even after they hurt you.