Heaven Is Comfort, But It's Still Not

She Didn't Even Have To Smile, And She Rarely Did Outside Her House--it Was The Eyes, Her Dancer's Carriage, The Way She Seemed To Deliberate Over The Smallest Movement Of Her Body.

She Liked To Imagine That When She Passed The World Looked After Her, But She Also Knew How Anonymous She Was.

I Loved The Way The Burned-out Flashcubes Of The Kodak Instamatic Marked A Moment That Had Passed, One That Would Now Be Gone Forever Except For A Picture.

I Left My Mark On That Man.

My Grandmother Stepped Back Into The Kitchen To Get Their Drinks. I Had Come To Love Her More After Death Than I Ever Had On Earth. I Wish I Could Say That In That Moment In The Kitchen She Decided To Quit Drinking, But I Now Saw That Drinking Was A Part Of What Made Her Who She Was. If The Worst Of What She Left On Earth Was A Legacy Of Inebriated Support, It Was A Good Legacy In My Book. ~susie's Grandmother, Lynn Pgs 315-316