This is why I insist on finding the good: because I know some truths, which have been shared with me by people at their most vulnerable, when their hearts are so exposed and raw that it takes all their energy to compose a few lines and pass a note under a closed door into my waiting hand. As an obituary writer, it’s my job to be part of Jeremy’s death and to help his mother remember her son’s life. But as a human being, I know that once hands are clasped, it doesn’t matter who did the reaching and who responded. The comfort is in the pressure of palm on palm, of heart to heart.
