I Live In A World Where Two

In This Deeply Nuanced Portrait Of An American Family, Bret Anthony Johnston Fearlessly Explores The Truth Behind A Mythic Happy Ending. In Remember Me Like This, Johnston Presents An Incisive Dismantling Of An All-too-comforting Fallacy: That In Being Found We Are No Longer Lost.

Everyday He Got Up. Before Sleep Wore Off, He Was Who He Used To Be. Then, As His Consciousness Woke, It Was As If Poison Seeped In. At First He Couldn't Even Get Up. He Lay There Under A Heavy Weight. But Then Only Movment Could Save Him, And He Moved And He Moved And He Moved, No Movement Being Enough To Make Up For It. The Guilt On Him, The Hand Of God Pressing Down On Him, Saying, You Were Not There When Your Daughter Needed You.

Because Horror On Earth Is Real And It Is Every Day. It Is Like A Flower Or Like The Sun; It Cannot Be Contained.

So There Are Cakes And Pillows And Colors Galore, But Underneath This More Obvious Patchwork Quilt Are Places Like A Quiet Room Where You Can Go And Hold Someone's Hand And Not Have To Say Anything.

She Sat In Her Room On The Couch My Parents Had Given Up On And Worked On Hardening Herself. Take Deep Breaths And Hold Them. Try To Stay Still For Longer And Longer Periods Of Time. Make Yourself Small And Like A Stone. Curl The Edges Of Yourself Up And Fold Them Under Where No One Can See. ~pg 29, Susie's Sister Lindsey Dealing With Grief.