Abide with Me

by Elizabeth Strout

Could it be he had no self?

Oh, we are far less important than we thought we were, and we are far, far more important than we think we are. Do you imagine that the scientist and the poet are not united? Do you assume you can answer the question of who we are and why we are here by rational thought alone? It is your job, your honor, your birthright, to bear the burden of this mystery. And it is your job to ask, in every thought, word, and deed: How can love best be served?

“Now the dismal autumn days have begun and one has to try and get light from within.”

“You just stood up to your mother, Tyler. I should think now you could take on the world.”

ANYONE WHO HAS EVER GRIEVED knows that grieving carries with it a tremendous wear and tear to the body itself, never mind the soul. Loss is an assault; a certain exhaustion, as strong as the pull of the moon on the tides, needs to be allowed for eventually.

It even came to seem to him that it was their last act of intimacy, his leaving the bottle of pills for her.

It was wrong, but he would do it again. For this reason he never spoke of it; it was their final, private deed.

suspect the most we can hope for, and it’s no small hope, is that we never give up, that we never stop giving ourselves permission to try to love and receive love.”

“Where there are people, there is always the hope of love.”