It's Hard, Because When You Talk About

My Father Had Not Been Outside The House Except To Drive Back And Forth To Work Or Sit Out In The Backyard, For Months, Nor Had He Seen His Neighbors. Now He Looked At Them, From Face To Face, Until He Realized I Had Been Loved By People He Didn't Even Recognize. His Heart Filled Up, Warm Again As It Had Not Been In What Seemed So Long To Him- Save Small Forgotten Moments With Buckley, The Accidents Of Love That Happened With His Son. ~pgs 209-210; Buckley, Lindsey And Jack On Susie

His Love For My Mother Wasn't About Looking Back And Loving Something That Would Never Change. It Was About Loving My Mother For Everything -- For Her Brokenness And Her Fleeing, For Her Being There Right Then In That Moment Before The Sun Rose And The Hospital Staff Came In. It Was About Touching That Hair With The Side Of His Fingertip, And Knowing Yet Plumbing Fearlessly The Depths Of Her Ocean Eyes.

I Wake Up Very Early In The Morning. I Like To Start In The Dark, And I Never Work At Night, Because My Brain Is Evaporated By 4 P.m.

There Wasn't A Lot Of Bullshit In My Heaven.

But, He Also Said It Because Part Of Him Wanted More Of Her, This Cold Woman Who Was Not Exactly Cold, This Rock Who Was Not Stone.