in all the years i had blundered along in search of my own footing, she had never given me an inkling of this wish. unburdened by the demands of history or anyone else's dreams, i had wandered toward and finally reached a world far outside the plains i loved and loathed. my mother had neither begrudged me this journey nor expected it, certain that i had to make my own way. but she packed my toolbox with her great wit and forbearance before i went, and she stashed there, for long safekeeping, her desire.
Gail CaldwellTags: mothering
Grief is what tells you who you are alone.
Gail CaldwellThe rest of the family tree had a root system soggy with alcohol... One aunt had fallen asleep with her face in the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving dinner; another's fondness for Coors was so unwavering that I can still remember the musky smell of the beer and the coldness of the cans. Most of the men drank the way all Texas men drank, or so I believed, which meant that they were tough guys who could hold their liquor until they couldn't anymore--a capacity that often led to some cloudy version of doom, be it financial ruin or suicide or the lesser betrayal of simple estrangement. Both social drinkers, my parents had eluded these tragic endings; in the postwar Texas of suburbs and cocktails, their drinking was routine but undramatic.
Gail CaldwellI'd confused need with love and love with sacrifice.
Gail CaldwellMaybe this is the point: to embrace the core sadness of life without toppling headlong into it, or assuming it will define your days.
Gail CaldwellI know now that we never get over great losses; we absorb them, and they carve us into different, often kinder, creatures.
Gail CaldwellMostly I couldn't bear... the paltry notion that memory was all that eternal life really meant, and I spent too much time wondering where people got the fortitude or delusion to keep on moving past the static dead.
Gail CaldwellHope in the beginning feels like such a violation of the loss, and yet without it we couldn't survive.
Gail CaldwellTags: loss death hope recovery
The real hell of this," he told her, "is that you're going to get through it.
Gail CaldwellWhat they never tell you about grief is that missing someone is the simple part.
Gail CaldwellTags: grief
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