Katherine Owen

“My greatest fear? I’ll just stop breathing one day. My next greatest fear? That I no longer care.”

“Well, maybe, you should. Because frankly, Brock, you’re being a jerk and you know it.” “I’m blind. Why can’t you people see that?”

“Me, all seeing. He, blind and unseeing, but, somehow, seeing it all so clearly. I envy him.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not scared,” I say airily. “Are you ever?” “All the time. Normally. All the time.”

“God, why have you done this to me? My little prayer goes unanswered.”

“I guess that’s how it goes. Opposites attract. He was the sunshine to my rain. He could find the best in an ordinary day of clouds and I gravitated towards his rays. He taught me how wonderful life could be and he gave me so much. And for that, I am truly grateful.”

“And, here’s what I know: I’m not drowning anymore. I can’t see my island; he’s gone forever from me now, but I’m standing on life’s shore again. I am here.”

“My favorite color is black because I love the night sky, black licorice, and I feel sorry for the color black because no one ever chooses it as their favorite.”

“He’s gone, incinerated for all time. I am the ashes left behind, soaked with too many tears, and burdened with an infinite future I cannot see. Our life together is finished.”

“Love has nothing to do with knowing someone. And, everything to do with need.”

“The pain is too much, the loss too great. There is no more before, and the after is too devastating. There isn’t enough of me left to go on. Grief has stolen too much of me now.”

“When you’re married, you’re privy to the misunderstanding. When you’re not married, it’s overrated.” I try to smile. “You rush in, headlong, full of dreams and wishes, so far removed from reality that you never even realize you’ve married into a family and the Navy. One refers to you as the girl from L.A., and the other refers to you as the dependent spouse.”

“He stands there, facing the largest windows, touching the glass with the open palm of his hands, feeling everything, but seeing nothing.”

“I’ve told too many lies. I hold too many secrets. Who can I really trust? Who can trust me when I don’t even trust myself?”

“Finally, I say, “long dark hair, blue-violet eyes, slender, tall, she had a Liz Taylor in Black Beauty thing going on.” Reluctance sets in. Do I really want to put this together for him? “Like you,” he says. Pandora’s Box opens. Chocolate anyone? An abundance of heartbreak. Rare happiness. Plenty of self-destruction. Take your pick. Julia’s got everything in here.”

“The psyche questionnaire asks me to list the things I dislike. Why don’t they just use the word, hate? Why is everyone so afraid to admit they hate something? I write Advil, and then add Athens, Afghanistan and the U.S. Army. “In conclusion, I hate a lot of things that begin with the letter A,” I write in the space provided.”

“There are all kinds of ways for a relationship to be tested, even broken, some, irrevocably; it’s the endings we’re unprepared for.”

“Here’s what I know: death abducts the dying, but grief steals from those left behind.”

“Grief is like cancer. It ebbs and flows within you. Then, it changes and transforms you. Forever. Grief. Cancer. Both force you to face your worst fear—death. Grief and cancer. Both undermine your optimism of life. You finally see the cup is really just half full, even if you believed otherwise your whole life. Both teach you to believe that bad things can happen to people, whether they’re good or bad or rich or poor or young or old, alike. Grief and cancer corner the market for all. Grief and cancer take all comers. Both rule. Do they always win? I begin to wonder.”

“Am I Carrie, now? I sway with the movement of the elevator. I close my eyes and try to think. I could never be Carrie. No one can. That’s the thing. Always. I could never be Carrie. I could never be Carrie. I could never be Carrie. I can feel the tears sting behind my eyes. I can never be Carrie. Now, I can’t even be Ellie.”

“This infidelity thing is too easy. It is the good and the bad.”

“Elaina Miles doesn’t have cancer. She doesn’t have kids. She doesn’t have a past. She doesn’t have a future. Elaina Miles has the present and she holds on to him as tightly as he holds on to her”

“I’m fearless. This man can cure anything. I smile.”