The more I thought about her sadness and disappointment, the more I sobbed into the pillow. That was the unfairness. Not that she’d died relatively young of lung cancer. But that she’d bitterly blamed herself for not creating the life that she’d longed for. That was the tragedy: that she had let her fear and caution keep her from having the life that she’d wanted. The cigarettes and the junk food helped the cancer grow, but deep down I knew that her frustration and sadness had killed her.
