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Each day is its own singular gift, precious and so easily taken.
I like scarred things. They’ve lived interesting lives—hard lives—and managed to survive.
The thought of leaving behind what’s most precious to us is unbearable, and so we cling to our memories in whatever way we can.
But some memories are indelible, etched into flesh and bone and soul. Some memories are forever.
But the first step in healing after any tragedy is to look our pain in the eye and accept the fact that it’s a part of who we’ll be going forward.
We can only bury our pain so long before it finds its way out. And in my experience, the longer we wait, the messier it gets.”
“For most of us, there’s someone—one person—whose soul we know as well as our own. The one we’re meant for. The one who’s meant for us. We know it the minute we meet them. We feel it. A recognition we sense in our bones. And it never goes away .
When we’re young, we think we know exactly where we’re headed. We map it all out and then burrow in, telling ourselves it’s best to stay safe. But sometimes life has something else planned. Something better.”
“Love doesn’t stop, sweetheart. Not when it’s real. Infatuation, passion, those things burn themselves out in time. But when you find that soul-deep connection with someone, it’s forever.”
We’re reminded to spend the time we have left on what’s truly meaningful, to lay down the things we can’t control—things we finally realize we’ve never controlled—and live in the moment. We start looking back instead of always ahead, and feel a profound sense of gratitude for all we’ve been given. The acceptance has to come first. Then comes the grace. And sometimes, even joy.”
Beauty—and the vanity that sometimes comes with it—is often confused with dignity. But that kind of beauty is never more than skin deep, while dignity is rooted in our humanity, in our very soul, a birthright we either cling to or surrender.
It’s funny how loving someone brave and strong makes you believe you’re brave and strong too. You live in their shadow, draw strength from their strength. And then one day, you’re tested—and you suddenly learn the truth about yourself. That’s how it happens for me, how I learn who I am—and who I’m not.
This is the business of dying well. The sorting out of what’s worth the fight and what’s not. The peeling off of old resentments. The laying down of arms. It’s a time of reckoning, of balancing our books and paying those we owe. But when done well, with clear eyes and an open heart, we learn to cherish those last precious days, and perhaps even to be grateful. We realize at long last that life in this world is finite, and with our wicks beginning to burn low, we cast about for other sources of light. For memory and meaning. For love stripped of need or wound. Pure, perfected, peaceful. This is
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That’s the thing about seeing people stripped of their pride—it humanizes them in ways we’re often not prepared for. We suddenly see our sameness, our connection, our ties. And once seen, they can never be unseen.
Keeping secrets is heavy work, but heavier still when the truth isn’t yours to tell.
never allow silence to come between you and someone you love.”
Life hands us all our share of regrets. Don’t live with the ones you don’t have to. Mend your fences while you can—as soon as you can. If someone needs you, be there, whatever it costs. Because you might not get another chance.”
The dying keep their own calendars, their own to-do lists. Wrongs to right. Loose ends to tie up. Emotional books to balance. But once they’ve got all the boxes checked, they tend to make their exits rather quickly.
They’d each broken their share of promises over the years, hurt each other in seemingly unforgivable ways, but in the end, none of it mattered. They’d chosen to forgive, to make peace with their yesterdays in order to savor a few precious tomorrows. Because when life gave you a second chance at that kind of love—the kind that filled all the empty places in your soul—you took it.
she’d finally come to understand why each soul was sent out into the world. It was to love—and to leave the mark of that love on the world when the time came to leave it. This, at long last, she had done.
