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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Grief was like a terrible burden, but at least you could lay it down by the side of the road and walk away from it.
It was just accepting. Nothing was ever so bad once you had accepted it.
Time to put our houses in order.”
simply describing, on a sheet of clean white paper, a circle. So fine, so precise. The pencil moving, drawing the line behind it, and finishing up, with marvellous finality, exactly where it had begun.
She mustn’t forget any of the things that Mumma really liked; not just lovely music, and having people to stay, and growing flowers, and ringing up for long chats just when you most hoped she would. But other things—like laughter, and fortitude and tolerance, and love.
She sang. Loudly. Not because she had a particularly strong voice, but because, like that child whistling in the dark, it helped to boost her courage.
