Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
The compact which exists between the North and the South is a covenant with death and an agreement with hell.
At a certain age, death becomes familiar to you-or a loss becomes familiar-the tragedies that are more commonplace in life.
I couldn’t have foreseen all the good things that have followed my mother’s death. The renewed energy, the surprising sweetness of grief. The tenderness I feel for strangers on walkers. The deeper love I have for my siblings and friends. The desire to play the mandolin. The gift of a visitation.