Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss

by Margaret Renkl

But the shadow side of love is always loss, and grief is only love’s own twin.

Your mother’s tears are not your fault.

Blessed are the parents whose final words on leaving—the house, the car, the least consequential phone call—are always “I love you.” They will leave behind children who are lost and still found, broken and, somehow, still whole.

Every day the world is teaching me what I need to know to be in the world.

In the stir of too much motion: Hold still. Be quiet. Listen.

the end of caregiving isn’t freedom. The end of caregiving is grief.

So much to do still, all of it praise.