I think of him now, ragged and lost, staggering across a desert, the path behind him littered with all the shiny little pieces that life has ripped from him.
And the Mountains Echoed
Yesterday was the anniversary of my mom's death. Reading that, I finally cried.
My regret tonight is not comforting her when we were both pretending to sleep, the night before my father's funeral. Too few words, not enough hugs.