What Had Happened Still Seemed Implausible. A

Yet The Story Of Orpheus, It Occurs To Me, Is Not Just About The Desire Of The Living To Resuscitate The Dead But About The Ways In Which The Dead Drag Us Along Into Their Shadowy Realm Because We Cannot Let Them Go. So We Follow Them Into The Underworld, Descending, Descending, Until One Day We Turn And Make Our Way Back.

Much Of Hamlet Is About The Precise Kind Of Slippage The Mourner Experiences: The Difference Between Being And Seeming, The Uncertainty About How The Inner Translates Into The Outer, The Sense That One Is Expected To Perform Grief Palatably. (if You Don’t Seem Sad, People Worry; But If You Are Grief-stricken, People Flinch Away From Your Pain.)

What Had Happened Still Seemed Implausible. A Person Was Present Your Entire Life, And Then One Day She Disappeared And Never Came Back. It Resisted Belief.

I'm Not Much Like My Mother; That Role Falls To My Brothers, Who Have More Of Her Blithe And Freewheeling Spirit.

One Word I Had Throughout The First Year And A Half Of My Mother's Death Was 'unmoored.' I Felt That I Had No Anchor, That I Had No Home In The World.