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“I put on my nightgown and crawl in beside him, covering the hand that covers his heart. Live forever, I say to myself.”

“All parents damage their kids. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”

When a mother dies too young, something inside her daughter always feels incomplete. There’s a missing piece she continues to look for, an emptiness she keeps trying to fill.

There is an emptiness inside of me—a void that will never be filled. No one inyour life will ever love you as your mother does. There is no love as pure,
unconditional and strong as a mother’s love. And I will never be loved that way again.