She No Longer Believed In Talk. It

The Living Deserve Attention, Too

And There She Was, Alone And Walking Out In The Cornfield While Everyone Else I Cared For Sat Together In One Room. She Would Always Feel Me And Think Of Me. I Could See That, But There Was No Longer Anything I Could Do. Ruth Had Been A Girl Haunted And Now She Would Be A Woman Haunted. First By Accident And Now By Choice. All Of It, The Story Of My Life And Death, Was Hers If She Chose Tot Ell It, Even To One Person At A Time.

The Dead Are Never Exactly Seen By The Living, But Many People Seem Acutely Aware Of Something Changed Around Them. They Speak Of A Chill In The Air. The Mates Of The Deceased Wake From Dreams And See A Figure Standing At The End Of Thier Bed, Or In A Doorway, Or Boarding, Phantomlike, A City Bus.

I Think That If You're Somebody Who's A Control Freak, The Process Would Make You Crazy, But I'm Kind Of A Process Freak, So I'm Excited To See What He Does With It. I Know It's Not Going To Be My Book, So Just Starting With That Knowledge Frees Me From Having To Get All Freaked Out About It.

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