Accepting all the good and bad about someone. It's a great thing to aspire to. The hard part is actually doing it.

Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place.

Life is full of screwups. You're supposed to fail sometimes. It's a required part of the human existance.

She bought seeds and raided nurseries and mulched and composted and spent full days with her hands full of earth, coaxing life our of the dry, dull grass my father had spent years pushing a mower over.

To me she said, 'It's this stupid gotcha thing, they've been doing it for weeks now. Leaping out at each other and us, scaring the hell out of everyone.'It's a game of wits,' Bert said to me.'Half-wits,' Kristy added.

That was the hard thing about grief, and the grieving. They spoke another language, and the words we knew always fell short of what we wanted them to say.