The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot

by Marianne Cronin

I suppose you could say that my relationship with God is complicated. As far as I understand it, he’s like a cosmic wishing well.

We can’t know why you are dying in the same way that we can’t know why you are living. Living and dying are both complete mysteries, and you can’t know either until you have done both.”

We want for people to know us, to know our story, to know who we are and who we will be. And after we’ve gone, to know who we were.

“Do you know,” she said slowly, “that the stars that we see the clearest are already dead?” “Well, that’s depressing.” I took my hand from hers. “No,” she said gently, linking her arm through mine, “it’s not depressing, it’s beautiful. They’ve been gone for who knows how long, but we can still see them. They live on.” They live on.

when you get to heaven,” he said. Her eyes opened. “Give ’em hell.”