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

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

“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.”

“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.”

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

“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.”

“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.”