March 8, 2012

For Just Half An Hour

... Now I didn't care about anything except the fact that he had died and I had not been ready. I had not been done with him. I wanted him to come back for just half an hour, so I could say what I had saved up for another time. For later.

- Elizabeth Berg, The Art of Mending

2 comments on “For Just Half An Hour”

  1. I try to imagine what remains unsaid with family and friends. I can't think of anything--not because our relationships are perfect. Far from it. It's that I just can't imagine the unthinkable happening; there will always be "later"....or so my head wants me to believe and my heart refuses to indulge the pain of the possibility. Yet your life experience shared with such honesty calls me out. I have much to consider.....

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