Your kind of love, once given, is never lost. You are alive and luminous in my head. Except when I fail to listen, you will speak through me when I face some crisis of feeling or sympathy or consideration for others. You are a curb on my natural impatience and competitiveness and arrogance. When I have been less than myself, you make me ashamed even as you forgive me. Wallace Stegner, Letter Much Too Late
If I bring her books to read
If I play her music
The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. Cicero
Well, then maybe instead of going where he’s dead, you need to go where you were alive together … Go where the memories are. That’s where he’ll be.