Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die to get there.

It's death there is no cure for-- life the long disease. If we're lucky. Otherwise, short trip beyond. And below.

I am no longer ashamed how for weeks, after, I wanted to be dead--not to die, mind you, or do myself in--but to be there already, walking amongst all those I'd lost, to join the throng singing, if that's what there is-- or the nothing, the gnawing--So be it.

May God or whoever else spare you the arms of bereavement specialists-- grant mercy from the Team dedicated to your transition in this difficult time yet who won't tell you a thing & know far less.

The day will come when you'll be dead longer than alive--thankfully not soon.

GriefThe borrowed handkerchief where she wept returned to me months later, starched, pressed.

Often, in death, everything else fails. We are left only with the music and the meaning of poetry.

Death brings with it a duty and devotion that cannot be explained to those who don't know it.