“My reaction didn’t help, obviously.”
- Love What Matters
- Health
“My reaction didn’t help, obviously.”
“And when the nurse said to me, ‘Are you okay? You don’t seem excited.’ I hated her for it. I hated that I hated her for it, but I did. They began inducing me, and the minute they did I started contracting.”
“‘STOP scraping your teeth on your fork!’ he yelled. I feared family meals. I became strong when skinny and untouchable when numb.”
“She told me she’s a widow, too. She told me about losing her daughter. I did something I rarely do—I slowed down. I leaned in. I listened.”
“She’s conscientious. A hard worker by nature. She needs to know it’s okay to let some things go.”
“When I turned 6, something began to grow on me. I was at my wit’s end with the torment. ‘I’ll never find happiness.’ Still, I knew there was purpose.”
“I wish I didn’t have to see my mother dying. I can’t change anything. I have to live with it.”
“They still hold hands when they take walks. My mom still has the countless letters of love my dad wrote when he was away. My dad still cuts flowers from his garden for her. All that mattered was the love they found then. It’s all that matters now.”
“I asked, ‘Really?’ at least three times, thinking he was playing a cruel joke.”
“You could see sadness and a cry for help, but nobody would listen.”