Here was what I wanted to happen when I walked through the door after my first real date and my first ever kiss. I wanted my mom to say, “Dear God, Meg, you’re glowing. Sit and tell me about this boy. He let you borrow his jacket? That’s so adorable.” Instead, I came off the high of that day by writing a letter to my dead brother and doing yoga between my twin beds, trying to forget my absent mother.
Laura Anderson KurkTags: love family separation young-adult-fiction teen-fiction ya-fiction glass-girl meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk mother-daughter-relationship
Sometimes, in the stillness of my room, my mom’s voice came to me, repeating things she’d said for months. Like, “My skin is melting off my face, isn’t it?” And, “My whole body feels dead from the crap they’re pouring into me. Do I look green to you?” And, “When I’m naked, I can see my heart beating.
Laura Anderson KurkTags: grief depression family-relationships anxiety medication young-adult-fiction teen-fiction ya-fiction glass-girl meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk mother-daughter-relationship
My mom told me once that Wyatt loved her the way a boy will love his mother, but I loved her the way an artist loves another. Jo taught me what that meant.
Laura Anderson KurkTags: art love family romance death creativity dating grief artist family-relationships siblings ya young-adult-fiction teen-fiction glass-girl henry-whitmire meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk mother-daughter-relationship perfect-glass jo-russell teen-literature
De pronto la miro y ya no está. Vuelvo a mirarla, la define su ausencia. Ha ido a unirse a lago que le da fuerza y no sé lo que es. No puedo seguirla, no entiendo hacia qué espacio invisible se ha dirigido, qué aire inefable la resguarda y la aísla; desde luego ya no está en el mundo y por más que manoteo no me ve, permanece siempre fuera de mi alcance. Sé que mi amor la sustenta, claro, pero su ausencia es sólo suya y en ella no tengo cabida.
Elena PoniatowskaTags: love amor fragility mother-daughter-relationship relación-madre-e-hija vínculos
Those who are close to us, when they die, divide our world. There is the world of the living, which we finally, in one way or another, succumb to, and then there is the domain of the dead that, like an imaginary friend (or foe) or a secret concubine, constantly beckons, reminding us of our loss. What is memory but a ghost that lurks at the corners of the mind, interrupting our normal course of life, disrupting our sleep in order to remind us of some acute pain or pleasure, something silenced or ignored? We miss not only their presence, or how they felt about us, but ultimately how they allowed us to feel about ourselves or them. (prologue)
Azar NafisiTags: memoir iran iranian-revolution mother-daughter-relationship family-dynamics father-daughter-relationship
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