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He said that if culture is a house, then language was the key to the front door; to all the rooms inside. Without it, he said, you ended up wayward, without a proper home or a legitimate identity.

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Meghan O'Rourke

A mother is a story with no beginning. That is what defines her.

Beginning, Defines, Mother, Stories, Story
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I wasn't prepared for the fact that grief is so unpredictable. It wasn't just sadness, and it wasn't linear. Somehow I'd thought that the first days would be the worst and then it would get steadily better - like getting over the flu. That's not how it was.

Grief, Linear, Sadness, Unpredictable, Worst, Would Be

I think about my mother every day. But usually the thoughts are fleeting - she crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye: startling, luminous, lovely. . . gone.

Crosses, Eye, Gone, Mother, Spring

One word I had throughout the first year and a half of my mother's death was 'unmoored. ' I felt that I had no anchor, that I had no home in the world.

Half, Home, Mother, Word, Year, Years

I was not raised with religion, and I had no faith before my mother died. On the other hand, when she died, I did not immediately feel she was "gone. " I don't believe she is in something like heaven, but I also feel that we don't understand much about the nature of the universe. So I hold on to that uncertainty, at times.

Believe, Hands, Heaven, Mother, Nature, Understand

Grief is a bad moon, a sleeper wave. It's like having an inner combatant, a saboteur who, at the slightest change in the sunlight, or at the first notes of a jingle for a dog food commercial, will flick the memory switch, bringing tears to your eyes.

Dog, Food, Grief, Inner, Memories
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