Renee

“There was no one in the world that was ever as critical or could make me
feel as hideous as my mother, but there was no one, not even Peter, who
ever made me feel as beautiful. Deep down I always believed her. That no
one would tell me the truth if my hair looked sloppy or if my makeup was
overdone.”
― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

“Hers was tougher than tough love. It was brutal, industrial-strength. A sinewy love that never gave way to an inch of weakness. It was a love that saw what was best for you ten steps ahead, and didn't care if it hurt like hell in the meantime. When I got hurt, she felt it so deeply, it was as though it were her own affliction. She was guilty only of caring too much. I realize this now, only in retrospect. No one in this would would ever love me as much as my mother, and she would never let me forget it.”
― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

“I remember these things clearly because that was how my mother loved you, not through white lies and constant verbal affirmation, but in subtle observations of what brought you joy, pocketed away to make you feel comforted and cared for without even realizing it.”
― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

“Now, more than ever, I wished desperately for a way to transfer pain, wished I could prove to my mother just how much I
loved her, that I could just crawl into her hospital cot and press my body
close enough to absorb her burden. It seemed only fair that life should
present such an opportunity to prove one’s filial piety.”
― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart