Kindle Notes & Highlights
Sometimes the grief still feels so fresh and raw that I’ll stand under the warm water of my morning shower and cry until my head pounds. Grief is so private that it’s hard to take it out into the world.
There are so many things I wish I could ask my mother, and part of what I mourn is the gaps in my history—and hers—that I will never fill now that she’s gone.
I thought about all the time I’d spent in Vietnam, all those days and weeks and months I could’ve been spending time with my mother. If I had known.
Writing had always been the only way for me to make sense of my experiences, good or bad. If I could just put into words what seemed too confusing or horrible or overwhelming, maybe, just maybe, I could get a hold of it and lessen its impact. By writing it, I felt as if I was in control, however false that might’ve been.
