“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?”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”